Dandelions
by daphnebeauty
Summary: Just like the dandelion seeds on the breeze, they had no control over their fates but they had plenty of hopes and wishes to keep them aloft.
1. Chapter 1

**Dandelions**

A story by daphnebeauty

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><p><span>Chapter One: The Weed<span>

Castle leaned forward in the seat of his car, curving and straining his neck to get a better view of the house at the end of the long, gravel driveway. It stood tall and imposing in the late morning light, hard and grey against the gentle blue of the sky. His tires pitched up small rocks into the underbelly of the car, snapping against the metal parts like a snare drum marking his steps into battle.

So much for a stealthy approach.

His stomach flared with nerves as the looming grey stones of the house slowly shielded the 10 o'clock sun. Perhaps this wasn't his best plan. Perhaps he should turn around and drive the four hours back home before anyone even knew this had happened. Before Kate knew it had happened. She had asked for space. Time and space. An entire continuum had stretched between them for the unbearable length of a month.

He hadn't heard her voice in a month. Seen the angles of her face in a month. Smelled the coffee infused in the threads of her clothes in a month. What if everything had changed? What if this chasm that yawned between them had also swallowed the things he loved about her?

She said she just needed to get away, get some space for a few days. A few days had turned into the most painfully slow month Castle had ever experienced. He'd do anything to give her what she wanted, but it physically hurt him to pull back and remove himself from her. It ached deep in his bones, made his motions stiff and his demeanor stiffer. He'd do anything to give her what she wanted, but not if it wasn't what she needed.

Time locked up alone in her father's cabin to dwell on the darkest parts of her existence did not seem like what Beckett needed.

That was before he'd realized that the "cabin" was actually a small manor in south Massachusetts. Although it really changed nothing, the arguments that had fortified his resolve to go after her vanished at the sight of the house. It wasn't what he'd worked up in his head. Control of the situation was slipping away. He'd meant to have the upper hand in surprising her, but the balance was quickly shifting. It opened up an entirely new avenue of unanswered questions in the mystery of Kate Beckett. Questions that felt hot and insistent in the base of his throat.

His hand was perched indecisively on the key still in the ignition. He could still kick the car into reverse and leave before he was seen. He could hightail it home and let her have all the space she needed for as long as she wanted it. He could. He should. It was the smart thing to do. _Never push Kate Beckett_. Had he not learned a thing in three years?

And just as his thumb and forefinger had finally come together in an unsure motion to restart the car, his eyes caught movement along the side of the house. He let his focus fly to what it craved, desired, and feared. He knew the long lines of her, even at this distance. He knew the curving brushstroke of her hips and the fluid space between her arm and torso. He knew the halo of sun that flickered on the golden wisps of her hair and he knew the nervous way her hands pushed them back behind her ears.

He did not know this stride of her walk, slow and uncertain. He did not know the lean of her body, curving into the left. He did not know the thin bones that pushed out against the skin that contained them.

He should have come sooner.

* * *

><p>She'd known who was in the car the moment she heard the spin of tires against the lengthy path leading up to her family's house. She was surprised it had taken him this long. The silver sedan slowed as it approached the impressive façade and she heard the distinct silence that follows the cutting of an engine. She waited for the car doors to close and his feet to hit the driveway, but it never came. Looking up from the flowerbed on the side of the house where she had spent the majority of the morning, she watched as Castle sat unmoving in the seat of the car.<p>

Standing, she pulled the soiled gloves from her hands and tossed them on top of the uneven and moist earth she'd just buried tulips bulbs in. Swiping her wrist across her chin to move a runaway piece of hair, she walked towards his still unopened vehicle. The tight cord that seemed to pull from her rib to her hip gave a fierce tug. She slowed, bending to the left to ease that wrenching tension.

She was well over halfway to the car before he finally opened the door and stepped out, rounding the hood slowly, hesitation in every shadow of his face. They were too far apart for vocal greetings and it made the distance between their two points seem much longer than it actually was. A bird chirped in the distance, mocking their silence, mocking their severity.

Finally close enough to speak, she found she had no idea what she wanted to say. She wasn't angry. She wasn't happy. She wasn't surprised. Meeting his half apologetic, half defiant gaze, she waited as his mouth seemed to try and push forth some sort of sentence. An explanation or an accusation, she was sure.

"Hi."

Her stomach turned in on itself and something squeezed tight in her chest. Somewhere in her mind "Hi" had sounded like the echoes of words spilled forth in a graveyard, impossible to bury. _I love you, Kate._

She breathed.

"Hey, Castle." The confidence she'd meant to soak her words in was mysteriously absent, leaving behind something questioning and far too quiet.

He flexed both his hands once. Twice. His eyes were having trouble finding a focal point, moving from her face to his feet to her chest to the house. They didn't dart nervously, but seemingly sought a destination that might impart some semblance of normalcy. Leniency. He looked lost and entirely out of place. Speechless and insecure.

Did he really come here without a plan?

"So are you taking polling data for the next census or is there some other reason you've shown up at my house? Uninvited."

"I, uh..."

"Because I seem to remember asking for a little time and space. Alone."

"You did." He took a step closer and she could see the shift in him. He'd gained his words back. "But it's been a month, Beckett. "

She forced the flare of indignation down, clenching her teeth against the defense that pushed against her lips. His entire being seemed set for a fight, muscles clenched in isometric tension and tugging at their bones. She would do this later. Turning her head, she looked out at the line of trees in the distance, trying to decide exactly what was the right thing to do. Bringing her hand to her face, she ran her fingers over her top lip an then hooked them into the bottom in thought.

"What am I supposed to do, Castle? I can't just…"

She felt the soft swipe of fingers against her chin and turned back to face him.

"You had some…" he rubbed at his own chin to explain, "dirt or something there."

Wide-eyed, Kate held up a trembling hand to her face where he had brushed her with his large, familiar hand, a spot of warmth lingering there like that one small patch of skin had been very gently set on fire. She swallowed.

"Gardening."

"Gardening?"

"Yeah, I was gardening when you pulled up. That's why the dirt."

"This place doesn't have its own gardeners?"

"I like doing it."

"And when you're not here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Castle. We have gardeners."

He tilted his chin forward and raised an eyebrow, telling her without words that they were far from done talking about the house and how it fit into Kate's history. She pursed her lips and stared him down. _Not now, Castle._

He seemed to get the message and rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking up at the house, taking in the orderly rows of large glass windows and steeply sloping roof.

"Are you going to invite me in?"

Always pushing to be let in. She walked past him and led him towards the house.

"It's not exactly set up for visitors. There haven't been any guests here since I was a kid…Fancy china is probably in a box in the attic somewhere."

"Shame. No way I'll be impressed without the fancy china."

She smirked and opened the beveled glass front door. The rush of cool air conditioning felt glorious as it snaked fluidly along her skin. The sun had toasted her all morning, drawing a slight sheen of sweat from her arms and forehead. The inside air flew by and sapped the heat right off the surface.

"You can go ahead and have a seat in the living room. I'm going to put some coffee on and go change."

"Don't you have a butler or something for that?" His eyes were sweeping over the high ceilings and wide staircase.

"Yeah, the butler will be right up to help me get my clothes off."

His eyes shot to hers. "I meant for the coffee."

"He likes the other job more."

He narrowed his eyes. "You are a cruel woman."

"And I also do not have a butler. Or any other kind of wait staff."

"Except gardeners."

She rolled her eyes. The joking came easy for them. It was familiar and could fend off more serious topics until the defense wasn't needed. She directed him towards the living room and headed off to set up the coffee maker before coming back out and starting up the stairs slowly. Stairs required a lot of muscle work that her body still wasn't comfortable with. She'd shown massive improvement from her status upon arrival, but they still left her aching and a little winded.

Before she had even climbed four steps, she felt a hand at her elbow. Firm, supportive, and slightly annoying. She turned her head to tell him exactly how much she did not need help getting up.

"I already know you don't need it. Please let me help anyway."

"I really don't need help, Castle. I do this every day."

"Yeah, but I don't. Don't make me sit and watch you from a chair. I feel like an ass."

She could understand that. Nodding, they proceeded to climb the stairs with Castle's right hand at her right elbow, arm around her back. It was nice, even if it was unnecessary. She could faintly smell his cologne, a scent she'd somehow missed without knowing it.

"You smell like dirt, Beckett."

He startled a laugh out of her, the clench of her diaphragm releasing a bruising ache, not quite painful enough to express on her face.

"Gee, thanks."

"It's nice. Earthy. Kinda sweaty." He waggled an eyebrow that told her sweaty did not have a negative connotation for him.

"Stop."

He surprisingly did.

"What were you planting out there?"

"Tulips."

"Nice."

"I doubt they'll bloom. I think I planted them wrong, but the bulbs were there and I was impatient."

"Gotta have patience with that kind of stuff if you want to get the good bloom."

She'd reached the top of the stairs and he had stopped on the one beneath her, ready to part ways.

"I'll be back down soon. Thanks for the…help."

"Thanks for letting me."

* * *

><p>Watching her stiffly climb those stairs, slowing each time something tore at the tender parts of her had been…unbearable. Of course he'd come straight to her. Of course he'd followed. Of course he'd put himself directly where he knew he wasn't wanted.<p>

Wasn't that what this whole trip was?

He'd barely stopped short of lifting her into his arms and carrying her, just to save his eyes the sight of her obvious pain. He had settled for a single hand on her elbow, probably helping to stabilize his thrashing emotions more than her unsteady climb. His throat felt raw with something like anger, but it pulled at his guts like love.

Pouring the coffee in the two small cups he found (too small for the Beckett he knew), he carried them out into the living room to wait for her to come down. Maybe she'd already be there and spare him the long moments watching her struggle back down the stairs. He wasn't sure she would let him help again and he sure as hell wasn't sure if he could bear watching.

When he entered the room, she had yet to descend. He set her coffee on the low table in front of the couch and his own on the side table by the chair he'd chosen. Nice stuff. Quality furniture. Not exactly in the style that he'd come to associate with Kate Beckett, but definitely appealing. The huge windows in the back of the room let a certain amount of afternoon light filter through and bless the rich woods with a feeling of pure warmth and the creamy furniture with a feeling of warm purity.

He looked over to the staircase as Kate came to the edge and started what looked like an arduous climb down. He leaned forward in his chair, eager to stand and do something. His hands grabbed at each other in the open space between his knees to keep from pushing up on the armrests.

"If I get up to help you, are you going to make me sit back down?"

"Yes."

"What if I do it anyway?"

"I'm halfway already."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. It's harder than walking, but it's good for me. See how fast I go?"

"Yeah. Super speedy, Beckett." He refrained from rolling his eyes and watched as she stepped off of the final stair and made her way into the living room. Her clothes were loose and comfortable looking. Free of dirt. She'd let her hair down and it was curlier and more natural than he'd ever seen it. Gorgeous.

She sat down on the couch next to him with a sigh, picking up the cup of coffee and crossing one leg over the other. Her stare wasn't cold, but it was definitely calculating. She was trying to read him, gauge him, draw confessions from him.

"So why are you here, again?"

"You've been gone a month."

She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, her body language so defensive he felt like he was talking to a barbed-wire fence. "I'm fine."

"You didn't call."

"I needed space, remember? Time? This doesn't look like you giving me either of those. I know you are just doing what you think is best, but I asked for those things for a reason. I came here alone for a _reason_."

"You left people behind who needed more from you."

"I got shot, Castle, and if you don't get what tha—"

"Oh believe me, I understand what it means. But healing is one thing. Hiding is another."

"I'm not hiding." She uncrossed her arms and legs to subconsciously somehow prove it.

"Yes you are. You hide. I seek. That's the game, right?"

"It's not a game."

He leaned back in his chair, giving his response a pause so that she would hear his words and not just the heat of the argument.

"No, you're right. It's not a game, is it? It's a pattern. Don't keep pulling away, Kate. You're not the only one in this."

The veins in her neck were pulsing as if they too needed to be heard, needed to make their argument. "But I'm trying to be. I don't want to bring more people into this—this thing! My life! Everything is broken right now, Castle! I'm trying to fix it before I take everyone down with me. I just need—"

"Space. Time. Yes I've heard. But we are already in this with you, Kate. We are already here! What about Ryan and Esposito? You think they don't miss their Captain too? You think they aren't still hurting from watching their friend get shot at a funeral and bleed out on the grass? What about me, Kate? I watched you die! What about me?"

Everything quieted. He'd said too much. Again.

"Castle, I…" She moved towards him, but had no other words to offer. She was at a loss to comfort the partner she'd died in front of and then abandoned after her resurrection.

His voice had quieted too. He was resigned to the impasse, but still couldn't stop the words. "You just left and didn't call, Kate. I had to ask your dad to even get an address to this place. I watched you die. I thought I'd never see you again. And you left."

And that was the crux of it, really. He'd thought he'd lost her forever, gained her back in a single victorious, miraculous moment, and then lost her again. She kept slipping away from him.

He just wanted to keep her.

Their coffees sat forgotten on respective tables, cooling quickly in the small cups. He couldn't quite look at her yet and he knew she wasn't looking at him. He'd felt the last of his words leave him in a capillary pull, so if more were to be said, she would have to do it. He was wrung dry.

The silence lasted just long enough for him to believe its permanence, before she spoke again. Calm and determined, her eyes bore into his, desperate for him to understand.

"After my mother was killed, something inside me changed. It's like I built up this wall inside. And I don't know, I guess I just didn't want to hurt like that again. I know I'm not going to be the kind of person that I want to be, I know that I'm not going …"

She paused, searching for words that seemed reluctant to be exposed.

"I'm not going to have the kind of relationship that I want until that wall comes down. And it's not going to happen until I put this thing to rest. I'm here trying to reconcile myself to that fact. "

Wow.

That was…open.

He scooted forward so far in his chair he might as well have not been using it at all. He took in the hair that curled over her downturned face as she looked into her lap at hands that twisted at themselves. Stretching across the distance, he rested a hand on top of hers, sedating them. He focused a moment on the smooth skin that spread so perfectly over the bones and muscles of her hands. Hands that could pull a trigger just as easily as they could plant a tulip bulb. He just wanted her to be happy.

She'd come here to heal and to try to find a way to sort her life so that she could be happy. He wanted to help. He wanted her happy.

"Kate, it's fine. I sort of knew about the wall and I'm sure Josh does too. He'll wait. You and me, Beckett. We can end this thing and you can be…happy. That wall won't be there forever; I can help you break it down. You just have to let me."

Her closed lips spread in beautiful smile, her entire face coming to life even as she tried to hide it from him. She nodded and her eyes met his, sparkling with something closer to happiness than he'd seen since…too long. Far too long.

"Thank you for understanding, Castle."

"I want to be here for you. That's all I want. Don't shut me out and we can do this together."

She pushed up from her seat and slowly stood, her hands sliding out from underneath his. He instantly missed the physical connection that he had forgotten even existed.

"Come on, Castle. Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah. Doctor says it's good for me. It'd be nice to have some company this time."

"Sure. Show me the hills and vales of your family's extensive property. Introduce me to the serfs."

She rolled her eyes as he had hoped and he stood to follow her to the front door.

"Oh and Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Josh and I broke up. He just wasn't the kind of relationship I want when the wall comes down."

With that, she stepped out of the door, leaving him trying to put the right foot in the right shoe, his head filling rapidly with endless questions and his heart with rampant hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dandelions**

A story by daphnebeauty

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><p><span>Chapter Two: The Bloom<span>

The grasses bobbed their purple-seeded heads with the tide of the wind, happy to fill the air with the rush and bustle of estival sounds. Each time he'd opened his mouth to speak, the air would quickly coil and comb itself through the tall grass with a_ hush_. Who was he to argue with nature? He'd obediently closed his mouth on the half-formed words, letting them wander back into the recesses of his mind to be forgotten.

Kate seemed in no hurry to make conversation either. Whether she was also taking cues from the natural world or simply because she had nothing to say, Castle did not know. He glanced to his right to gauge the reason for her silence, but could not read her profile. Her features were passive and encrypted.

They had started out walking along the gravel driveway, retracing the path that Castle had driven on at a fairly brisk pace compared to the slowness with which he'd seen her move before. When Kate had reached a certain point, however, she'd deviated off the gravel guide and turned to walk through the grass, out into the property.

They had been walking along the relatively flat land for almost ten minutes now, not having said a word. He heard the snap of a weak twig beneath him and looked down. His brown leather shoes were stained dark by the dew. Not quite the right choice for a hike. He could feel his arches curl under, in a premature shadow of how they'd probably feel tonight. He winced and glanced yet again at Kate. Her body was listing to the left again as if to cradle her wounds.

Ah.

He was being a wimp. Probably shouldn't mention his achy arches to her.

"So…do you walk this every day?" His voice sounded too loud for this world.

"Not specifically. I try to see new things each time. Go a different way." Her voice sounded perfect in this world.

"Which way are we going today?"

"I'm not sure. Just…north."

"I like north."

She hummed and gave him a small smile. Honestly, he'd be happy with any direction as long as she let him come along. The past month had been awful. Wondering if she was near a doctor. Wondering if there was any security on her. Wondering if she was in pain. Wondering why she hadn't called. Wondering when she would come back. Loving her so fiercely that everything else in his life had faded in comparison.

He let his steps take him closer to her side, her proximity a panacea.

They were approaching the tree line that edged the grassy field. Ancient, knotted beech trees threw their branches wide, having staked their spatial claims long ago. Between these giants were stands of young and limber birch trees, shedding their papery bark as if to slowly reveal what was really behind the mask.

Once beneath the cover of the forest line, Kate reached her hand out and rested it against the smooth trunk of a beech. Her fingers ran down wood so grey it was almost silver, stroking the tree like an old friend. Lifting her face to gaze at the branches, Castle watched in wonder as a small smile curved the delicate corners of her mouth and she shared an unspoken secret with the great tree at her side.

He couldn't take his eyes off her if he tried. And he did try. He felt like he was interrupting a private moment between Kate and the tree. Her finger picked lightly at a small, black knot on the trunk before she turned to him, the secret in her eyes unreadable and full of far away joy.

"I had a fort in a tree just like this one somewhere out here. When I was a kid."

He couldn't help the smile that pulled and stretched his mouth. This story was definitely worth a smile. He could tell. Taking a few steps closer to her, he leaned up against the trunk next to her.

"A fort? You?"

"Yes, Castle. I had a childhood too. My dad and I started building one in a big tree like this—"

"Beech."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Beech. It's a beech tree."

"Ok, yeah. Whatever. My dad and I started building one in a _beech_ tree just like this. It took forever. I mostly ended up building it all on my own towards the end. I wish I could remember where it was."

"You don't?"

"No. Just…somewhere out here."

He felt his fingers tingle with the promise of an adventure. "Wanna go find it?"

She looked at him and smiled fondly, something in her eyes unshuttered and shining. It stole his breath. Then she broke the contact and looked down at their feet, scuffing a toe along the decomposing surface of a leaf.

"No. Let's leave it. I like my memories better."

He nodded, not understanding why, but understanding her. This place was sacred for her and she was struggling to keep something in balance that seemed a little too eager to tip.

"Hmm. Leave the mystery a mystery? Goes against my very nature, but perhaps you could distract me with more tales of your youth?"

"What happened to that comfortable silence thing we were doing a while ago?"

"Gone."

She rolled her eyes with a smile and pushed off the tree with her hand. A slight crease between her eyes was the only sign of her discomfort, but it struck Castle that maybe this stop at the tree line was not simply to give her a chance to share the story of her fort. She had needed a rest.

The thought shook him, incredibly disconcerting. He would pay closer attention now, watch for signs of weakness and pain. He would find ways to take breaks without seeming like he was manhandling her care.

"Come on, Castle. Let's keep going."

* * *

><p>Her side was killing her. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to school her features so that Castle wouldn't notice. It hurt to take a step with either foot. It felt tight and tied and immoveable.<p>

But it felt better than yesterday.

So she pushed forward. It was a deep muscular ache, nothing ripping or stabbing or bleeding. She was just weak and sore and her muscles were complaining at the tops of their lungs. The walk was good for her. The walk was her prescription.

They hadn't cracked open her chest, split her sternum like a crab claw, or moved around her organs. She didn't have a long scar running down her chest, just the one, puckered bullet hole. They'd cut a conservative slit between her fifth and sixth ribs and drained the blood that had gathered and suffocated her heart. The bullet itself had flown straight through her, as if her body were merely a flimsy obstacle in its path to something much further and more imposing. It had somehow missed damaging anything important in its rush to blow from her front to back.

She was lucky.

All things considered.

She needed to see his face. She wanted to take in the square jaw and the strong nose and the kind eyes of the face that never left her thoughts. Turning, she looked over at the man who walked by her side.

He was staring at her too.

They both ducked their heads down to the ground, caught in the act. She smiled at the ridiculousness and glanced back at him to see if he had smiled too. There was no tilt to his mouth, only slight concern in his eyes. Oh. Perhaps her little rest stop at the tree hadn't been quite as subtle as she'd thought. He was watching her for signs of imminent death or unbearable pain.

It was sweet and completely her fault.

She wanted to be able to give him something. Something to tell him she would be okay.

Leaning in towards him, she let their hands brush, knuckles grazing and bumping in syncopation. His eyes found hers and she gave him a small smile. She nudged his shoulder once with hers before drawing back, hoping it had been enough.

Before she could get far, she felt the shuffle of his fingers along her palm, climbing for the spaces between her fingers. He twined them through and curled them up, locking hands together securely. She fixed her eyes at the link, watching passively and in awe at the weave of him and her. Them. Tan and pale. Thick and thin. Strong and delicate.

It was uncomfortable and perfect at the same time.

She pulled her hand back, sliding it out slowly and apologetically. Not ready for perfection. Not ready to hold the hand of the man who loved her. Not ready for any of it. Her chest flew with panic and uncertainty. She wasn't ready for him. Would he wait? She should give him her hand back. Give him something to hold while he waited. Give herself something to hold to keep him there. Keep him.

"Castle, I—"

"I know, Kate. You don't have to say it. I'm sorry. I'll stay on my side from now on. It was just a reflex. Let's just keep going."

He was speaking quickly and smiling nervously and it made it so much harder.

"It was just a reflex for me too, you know?"

Holding her hand was his reflex. Pulling away was hers. Hide and seek. He was right, it was a pattern.

She reached out clumsily and snagged his hand mid-swing. Break the pattern. Just hold his damn hand. Slipping her fingers through his, she watched as he tried to mold his features into something acceptable. His jaw clenched against a smile and the action smoothed out the worried wrinkles her panic had caused. It was fine. He wouldn't make this more than it was. He'd heard her in the house when she'd spilled oh so much about the twisted state of her life.

He knew. He knew she wasn't ready.

But maybe they could wait together.

* * *

><p>He was holding her.<p>

He could feel the warmth they created between their hands. He could feel the pulse of life through her fingers. He could feel the unbearable rhythm of her thumb as it ran up and down, up and down his own. He was holding her.

He wasn't going to question it. He was just going to hold her and enjoy this little moment she'd allowed them. She wasn't ready for more and he knew that, would never push her for something she didn't want to give him. He wouldn't take her hand and run with it to the altar. For now, simply holding her hand was enough.

He couldn't help glancing over at her every few seconds or so. This bit of forest looked exactly like the last bit of forest, but Kate's face was in constant evolution. The faraway leaves in the canopy dappled her skin with shifting shadows and every once in a while, heavenly rays of light fell through the gaps in the trees, gilding her hair in the gentle afternoon sun.

The earth was wet and mulchy as they walked quietly to nowhere in particular.

"So, I think I've been pretty patient here. When are you going to explain the whole 'I have a giant manor and never told Castle' thing?"

"What's there to say? It was my mom's. I didn't tell you because it never came up."

"You have to give me more than that! I need the story, Kate! You know how I love my stories."

"Well…if you really want to know, Havencrest—"

"Havencrest? Your house has a name?"

"If you want the story then stop interrupting." She set him in his place with a pointed look and then continued. "Havencrest was built around 1830 for a man named Nathan Allen, who had too much money and no better ideas on how to spend it. He sold it to Catherine Seastill who converted it into a boarding school for girls. It stayed a school for almost fifty years until one winter, the girls were snowed in and all slowly froze to death."

"What? You're just tricking me, aren't you? You are."

"I'm not. Honest. Twenty-three girls and two teachers died and nobody found the bodies until months later when the snow finally cleared enough for travel. They say you could tell which girls died first because their bodies were…"

"Were what?"

She hesitated and looked at him as if seriously wondering if she should continue. "Eaten away. Human bite marks. Limbs cut off. The others ate them for food."

He could feel his face pale. Could feel the icy chill of tiny fingers desperately climbing up his gut. He shuddered. "What the hell! You live in a house with the ghosts of 23 creepy, cannibal girls?"

She smiled and he momentarily forgot the awful mental images in his brain.

"No such thing as ghosts, Castle."

"Well of course _you_ wouldn't think so."

"The house is rumored to be cursed, though. Kept it at a surprisingly low cost. Not hard to whittle the asking price down when no one else wants to buy a house filled with 'creepy cannibal girl ghosts'."

"I'm going to have to get a hotel room aren't I?"

"You were planning on staying with me?"

Well. Uh…"Yes?"

She nodded and then looked at him from the corner of her eye. Sly, scolding, and pleased all at once.

"And exactly how long were you planning on staying?"

"As long as it took."

Oops. Too much.

"As long as it took to what, Castle?" He could feel the tension in her hand, coming from her shoulders as they tightened.

He wiped his free hand down his face. "Just…to make you see. Long enough to convince you that you didn't have to hide. That we could do this together. That you aren't just allowed to drop out of my life like that."

Her fingers twitched against him and disappointment shot through him as he realized she was about to pull away. He was tempted to hold tighter, but she never left. Just rubbed the pad of her thumb against him with a little more pressure. She wasn't letting go.

"And now that you've done that?"

"Well I guess it's up to you, then." He turned to watch, drawn to the easy beauty of her. "Can I stay the night?"

She ducked her head with a smile before looking up and meeting his gaze with eyes that were too deep, too dark, too beautiful. "Yeah. I guess you can stay. I'm sure one of the creepy cannibal ghosts wouldn't mind sharing her room."

"Don't even start with that or I'll be jumping into your bed at 3 AM. I know you sleep with a gun."

Her thumb had stopped its hypnotic trip along his skin and her eyes widened. He replayed his teasing statement in his head and his own eyebrows shot up when he realized. Jumping into Kate's bed. His mind stuttered through apologies and innuendo, twisting them together into replies he could never let out. All that remained in the end was a picture of himself sliding into the arms of Kate Beckett in bed.

Kate Beckett in bed.

He swallowed thickly.

"Stay outta my room, Castle." He blinked and she smiled. "Besides, guns don't work on little girl ghosts."

He barked out a laugh and turned away, trying to shake away the residual want from his system.

"I'll remember tha—"

"Hang on, _shhh_." She stopped walking and swiped her free hand against his chest, halting and hushing him. They were standing way too close. He could smell the sun in her hair. Her hand was still on his chest. He wasn't moving an inch.

"What?" he whispered.

"Do you hear that?"

He furrowed his brow and listened to the forest around them, half expecting the growl of a bear. Or maybe a little girl ghost. He heard something in the distance, low and wet. Moving water.

"Is that a stream?"

"I think it is! I remembered there was a stream out here, but I hadn't been able to make it this far on my own."

"Are you okay? Do you need a rest? Maybe we should head home."

"I'm fine, Castle. Come on, I want to see it."

He couldn't possibly say no to her when she looked at him like that, light and so alive. She was pulling him towards the sound. Pulling him with an open smile and a laugh. Nope. No way would he ever say no to her right now.

The stream was closer than he'd imagined. It pushed through the trees, engraving a wide and beautiful line in the earth. It didn't wind or babble. It had a purpose and a place to be, but it didn't rush. It flowed steady and clear through the woods in a continuous and confident path that Castle couldn't help but admire.

They walked up to the bank hand in hand and he leaned over to gauge the depth. Pretty shallow. Definitely no deeper than his knee in the middle.

She frowned and tilted her head. "I remember it being bigger."

"It's pretty big. Can't jump across."

"But it's not the Amazon or anything."

His eyes lit up as his mind threw a luminous vision before him of a dark-haired little girl trekking through her woods on a quest of the imagination. Crossing the Amazon in search of treasure. Preparing for battle against insatiable cannibals. Pretending not to hear the calls in for dinner from her parents.

Maybe one day these woods would have a whole new generation of dark-haired kids roaming about. Maybe one day he and Kate would call them in for dinn—

Getting ahead of himself again. He blamed it on the feel of her hand in his.

"What's on the other side?"

"Umm…our property only goes a little further out. There's a chapel that was built along with the old girls school, but it's pretty run down. Then we'd hit a stone wall that splits us from the neighbors. That's the end of it."

"Can we see it?"

"Not much to see, Castle. Just a wall."

"What about the chapel?"

"It's really not that great. Mostly just…ruins at this point." She started to pull her hand from his and walk backwards away from the bank. "Probably should head back."

"Wait, but ruins sound cool, Beckett. Let's not head back yet. Please?"

Her hand was still loosely touching his own, the tips of their fingers pressed together. The reluctance on her face was entirely too dominating, her eyes fencing him out and hiding something.

"I don't think so, Castle. Not today."

"Kate, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Her eyes flicked to the river and then back to him, desperate for him not to ask, not to push on this one. Oh.

_Oh._

She couldn't cross the stream.

There were two stones evenly spaced across the breadth of it, but they were still far enough apart that Beckett would never be able to make the stretch with her injury. Now he felt like an idiot. He knew how much the strong woman in front of him hated to be seen as anything less than superhuman, hated to have her weaknesses on display.

Fix it.

He took his hand from hers and walked directly in front of her, startling her enough with his abrupt movement that she stayed still. He gave her his most dashing smile and then turned his back to her, crouching low. He twisted his head back to look at her and then wiggled his eyebrows, trying to get her to forget her insecurities and drop the wall again.

"Come on, Kate. Hop on."

"Hop on?"

"One time offer. I'll be your mule."

"Don't you mean ass?"

"Be nice. Now get on."

"You are delusional. No way."

"I thought you might say that. You know you can't outrun me so don't make me turn around and carry you bridal style."

He saw the gentle flare in her eyes and felt every inch of him burn with need for her. He gave her an acknowledging nod, letting her know he'd seen the glow in her eyes at the word "bridal" and hoping to get a blush from her. No blush, but she did dip her head down in a bob before walking forward and sliding her hand between his shoulder blades.

Holy hell.

That was far more erotic than it should have been.

"Come on, Castle. Firm up. You can't carry me if your knees are about to give way."

He cleared his throat and lowered himself even further to the ground. "Wrap your arms around my neck."

"I know how to ride piggyback, Castle." She slid her hands over his shoulders and across his chest, fingers pressing through the material of his shirt. Completely unnecessary amount of contact. Unnecessary and completely intoxicating.

She grabbed onto her own elbows and pressed her chest into his back.

_Shit._

He could feel every single inch of every single curve through her thin heather grey shirt. With all the rampant symbolism in carrying her bridal style, he was fairly certain it would be easier on his mental health than this. The long stretch of her torso against the muscles of his back. The snagging catch of the button on her jeans on his own belt loop. The warm breath all to close to his ear, fanning out over his neck. Feeling her thigh slowly glide up the side of his leg caused the breath to rush out of him all at once.

Nope. He would not survive this.

"A little help? I can't lift it all the way yet."

He cleared his throat yet again, trying to make room for air to pass around the arousal that seemed to be trapped there.

"Right. Of course."

He reached his hand back and gripped the strong muscles of her thigh, pulling it up and hitching it atop his hip. Closing his eyes, he extended his other hand to do the same with her right leg, feeling the moment all her weight rested entirely on him. She was light and weighed next to nothing on the shelf his hips and arms provided. Or maybe it was just all the adrenaline coursing through his veins, giving him the illusion of super strength.

Once she had settled against him, he turned his head and asked, "Ready?"

"Mhmm."

The hum was low and cloudy in his ear, sending a haze through his body that felt like a heavy fog. Her cheek hovered close to his own and he could hear each breath she took, could feel her chest expand and deflate on his back. Most exquisitely of all, he could feel the heat from her thighs as they squeezed around his waist, holding herself to him. As if he would ever drop her.

He took a step forward and tested the weight of them together on one foot, poking the other forward to hover over the water. He'd get them over this. He could carry them both.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dandelions**

A story by daphnebeauty

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three: The Seeds<span>

She laughed harder with every step he took. Couldn't help it. The comical squelch of sock against shoe. The slapping drag of heavy jeans on his skin. His face was pinched in the middle and frowning. It was just too funny. She couldn't breathe through her soundless laughter and was forced to stop and lean her weight against a tree to stay upright.

"It's not _that _funny."

She looked up at his indignant face and the sweet, embarrassed blush on his cheeks. She sucked in a stuttering deep breath that teased at her clenched abs before peeling out another laugh that echoed loudly through the forest.

"Yes," she wheezed, "it is."

He shook his leg out to the side, flinging droplets of water and dead leaves. A bit of riverbed scum flew and smacked the base of the tree with a wet slap. Her laughs shook her. It hurt, but was so utterly refreshing at the same time. It felt like she was exorcising the demons of the past month in a crescendo of laughter that seemed to lift her off her feet even as she doubled over towards the damp earth.

"Stop, stop. Please, Castle. I can't."

He looked over at her and his face lightened a bit, the wrinkles of his brow lessened. He gave her a tiny smile and then walked over to her side, placing a hand above her shoulder against the tree she was resting against. So close. His face was so close to hers. The traces of embarrassment were chased almost fully away by the spreading delight in his features. Joy seemed to pool and concentrate in the lines that spread freely and beautifully from his eyes. It was breathtaking. It sobered her laughter, but intoxicated her heart.

She breathed, sliding her hand along the bark to keep it from reaching out to touch his happy face where it so badly wanted to be. She quirked a flickering lip up, cheeks sore from smiles.

"I can't believe you fell in."

"Let me ask you something. Are you at all wet? Is there any moisture that seems to have permeated any thread of your clothes? Has a single drop of water even touched you?"

"No," she impatiently raised her eyebrows, pushing him to make his point.

"Then I'd say I did my job."

His eyes were telling her far more than his words were. She must have missed something somewhere because she wasn't finding the subtext here. She didn't want to ruin the beautiful smile on his face, so she let him have it. Whatever it was that was so important about this moment, she would give it to him. She moved her hand from the tree to his torso and smoothed it down the cotton of his shirt, feeling his warmth and the hint of dampness from sweat. Muscles that had carried her over a stream. The faint pulse from a heart so unfathomable, she couldn't begin to deserve it.

Her eyes followed her fingers as they lightly brushed along his waist, taken with a moment of gratitude for the man who stood so very close to her side.

"Yeah, Castle. I guess you got us through it."

Oh.

_That _was the subtext. Her stupid, poetic, symbol-loving man. She hid her eyes from him, shading them with eyelashes and a dip of her head. Trying to keep him from seeing all the things she understood. All the things she knew. Things she wasn't quite ready for. Right?

Bringing his face even closer to hers, he said, "I mean, I got a _little_ wet getting us there, but all in all a success. As soon as my socks dry I'll even be able to laugh about it."

She pushed off of the tree and away from the warm draw of his body and smile. Couldn't help but roll her eyes as her memory flashed over his fall into the stream. He'd been perfectly balanced on the first steppingstone, having fairly confidently jumped from the bank to land with first his right foot and then his left. It was a wide enough rock, secured firmly in the bed of the river. Immovable. His problem hadn't been the rock.

His problem, she suspected, had been the brush of her lips against his ear as she laughed.

It had been pulled out of her, the thrill of doing something so free and…young. After his first leap and successful landing, she'd felt an inexplicable exhilaration and she had been unable to contain the laugh. She had turned her face into his neck and just as he had lifted his foot to attempt a jump to the next rock, her lips had touched his ear. Light and barely there, but she was sure he'd felt it.

Right as he had pushed off, she'd heard his surprised intake of breath and then felt the bottom of her stomach drop as suddenly they were no longer on a trajectory to the rock. His foot had hit with a loud splash and he had sunk knee-deep into the water. She had clenched her legs so tightly around his waist it must have caused him some sort of pain. Reaching out to grab the rock he'd been aiming for, he managed to somehow keep himself from completely falling over in the water.

For as gentle as the river seemed from the surface, a current still tugged at his knees. He slogged his way to the other side, each step pulling and sucking his legs downstream. Using the rock for balance with his hands, he'd finally gotten them across. He had let her slide slowly off his back to the muddy sand of the bank and then turned to her, guilt and worry in his eyes. She'd done some pretty extensive reassuring. Convinced him that his slip had in no way hurt her or somehow ripped open all her wounds.

And then he had tried to walk and her fits of hysterical laughter had been uncontrollable since. She continued to walk slowly on, and didn't have to turn around to know that he was following her. She could hear his squashy footsteps.

He reached her side and pulled her hand into his. Like it was normal. "You know. I slipped on that rock. Sneaky wet moss or algae or something."

"Uh huh. Sure."

"No really. I was fine until then. I totally could have made that jump."

"Yeah, Castle. It was the invisible algae."

"It was!"

"You sure? It wasn't something else? Something tall, clinging to your back, and significantly less slimy?"

"I do not know what you are insinuating—"

"Some 88 inches of legs wrapped around your body?"

"Ah, yes. Those. Eighty-eight very distracting inches."

"I thought maybe that might have been it."

"You would think so, but honestly?" he leaned in, keeping her hand firmly in his so she could not pull back to safety, "I think it was that teeny, tiny kiss you gave me."

"I did not k—"

"Totally worth it, though. No regrets."

"Castle, I did not kiss you."

"That is not the version of the story that I will be telling."

She narrowed her eyes but turned away, opting to halt that particular line of conversation before things became too unwieldy. She knew he wouldn't share any details of this particular visit with anyone, including any incidental accidental non-kisses. A storyteller like Castle knew that some stories were meant to be left untold and simply experienced. This one was just for them.

They crested a rather steep but short slope and found themselves looking at the old chapel. Castle stopped where he stood, his eyes lighting and his mouth relaxing in open surprise.

"Kate, this is…beautiful."

It didn't look like she remembered. Nothing here but the timeless trees did. The large grey stones that stacked upon each other to form the walls could have been pulled straight from the riverbed. Moss had infiltrated every cranny it could find, grew thickly along the mortar and spilled out along the seams of the windows. Ivy followed where the moss had laid down its tracks, stealing up the sides in long embracing arms.

The most astonishing change had been the growth of the crab apple tree that stood as guardian outside the front doors. It's once conservative limber branches that had dropped their sour fruits onto the grass were now spread far and many, drooping to sweep across the unassuming roof of the chapel. It had erupted into a spell of light pink flowers, some of which were floating like snow to the ground, announcing the end of the blossoming season.

"It is. It's beautiful."

"Not ruins at all." He looked down and over at her and she raised her chin to meet his gaze.

"Well, I remember there was a fisher cat that used to live here, so I wouldn't start squatting just yet."

"Oh."

"And the roof is slightly caved in over on the other side."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Still, though. It's beautiful. A little broken, but I like it. It has character."

Trust him to find the appeal in this broken and overgrown place in the back of the property. Spoke more to his character than the chapel's.

"Do you want to see inside?" She couldn't hide the excitement lacing her own voice. This place had always had a certain draw. In her childhood, it might have been because her mother had been (somewhat understandably) afraid of fisher cats and told her not to play there without her dad around. Thus ensuring that Kate always found a way to make it to the chapel when she came out alone, barreling over her boundaries and challenging the concept that she could be contained in any way.

He tugged on their still linked hands, jolting her side unpleasantly in his excitement, but not noticing.

"Have you met me? Of course I want to go inside."

They walked together to the weathered wooden doors and paused as she investigated the old wrought iron handle. Pinching the tip of it to avoid a small spider and its web, she pulled the unlocked left door open slowly. It creaked and groaned, showing its age and complaining loudly at the disturbance.

She stepped over the threshold first, noting the significant drop in temperature inside despite being midsummer. The air smelled cold, like rocks and rivers and shade. Despite the windows that lined the walls, scant light penetrated through the little building, the thick patina of unidentifiable grime keeping the sun away. She could hear the echoes of Castle's steps to her side, feel him breathing in the cool air as his chest brushed her shoulder. She turned to look at his face as he took it all in, waiting for her own eyes to adapt to the dark interior.

He was clearly thrilled.

Letting go of her hand, he walked forward between the two columns of wooden pews to stand at the front where the room widened and heightened. He held his arms open and smiled so widely that his face was transformed momentarily into that of a little boy's.

"This is awesome."

She laughed, the sound dancing off the walls before absorbing into the very air. "It's not that great, Castle." But it kind of was. With him, at least.

"I can't decide if I'd rather clean it up and fill it with stained glass and books, or leave it like this in its natural state. Watch as it slowly becomes part of the woods. Forgets that it is manmade."

She nodded, biting her lip at his imagination and writer's mind. She walked the short distance to join him at the front. "Luckily you don't have to be burdened with that decision."

"Come on, Beckett. You can't see the potential of a personal library here?"

"It's a chapel, Castle. If we fix it up as anything, we'd fix it up as a chapel."

"But no one would use it!"

"They could."

"Like who? Your serfs?"

She rolled her eyes at his relentless ridiculousness. "No, Castle. I don't know, but I don't want to change it. My grandparents were married here. It's a place for weddings and Sunday school and miracles and…stuff." She petered out, quickly averting her eyes to the floor in front of them, not eager to get on the topic of miracles and marriage with him.

"Your grandparents were married here?"

"Long time ago. Before it…looked like this."

He quirked a teasing eyebrow. "I sort of figured."

She rolled her eyes and moved around him to touch her fingers to the center of three tall glass windows that served as the main focal point when the room was empty like this. He came to stand next to her and squinted out the window as if the narrowing of his eyelids would help him see better through the grime.

"I think fixing it up as a chapel would be perfect. Forget the library. That was dumb anyway. Fisher cats can't read."

She smiled warmly at him. He really knew how to handle her perfectly. Even when she was inexplicably attached to the spiritual history of a chapel that had gone to pot long ago, he knew exactly what to say. How to keep her from feeling ridiculous. How to share in the things she held close to her heart. How to understand why.

He ran his hand over her back in a caress that felt illicit and natural all at once. And then he was gone, walking back down the aisle and towards the heavy door that had remained partially open. Pushing it out, his face was illuminated in a white light, throwing shadows over his deeper lines and defining the handsome angles of his face.

"Besides. Who knows? There might be another wedding here one day."

And with that, he left her infuriatingly alone at the front of the chapel beneath the lancet windows.

* * *

><p>He walked under the apple tree, pushing aside a low branch as his heart thundered in his chest. Since when did he say things like that? Since when did he open himself up to the situation that was sure to follow his little wedding comment? Since when had he completely abandoned subtlety and subtext in favor of blatant professions of his dreams?<p>

Never.

He was allowed to flirt. He was allowed to hint around it. He was allowed to make all the sexual innuendo he wanted. But this was so far over the line—over her wall. So far past the little safety zone created for their hearts. She was going to walk out of that tiny, perfect, broken chapel with all the joy sapped from her features. She was going to tell him it would be best for him to just go home. There was no escaping it. She'd given him so much leeway today with the handholding and the touching and the laughing. He'd taken it and run straight to the altar with it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to force the stale air out of his lungs. Why couldn't he have held his tongue? He'd almost managed to get out the door, but the line was just too perfect, the desire was just too strong. A horrible, wretched, masochistic part of himself had _wanted _to tell her. See her face as she processed it. See her standing up at the head of the altar, with him by the door…a premonition.

He heard the loud and unforgiving moan of the door and turned to face his fate. She leaned against the stones on the wall, one arm folded across her ribs and eyes unreadable. He wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to say something, but he already knew that there was absolutely nothing his brain was going to come up with. He'd ruined the perfect day with her. Only thing left was to walk her home.

"Stop looking at me like that, Castle."

He looked away.

He heard her exasperated sigh and flicked his eyes back to her for just a moment from under his lashes.

"Come on, then. Let's head back. I'm getting hungry."

It wasn't possible. There was no way she hadn't understood what he had meant when he told her there could be another wedding. And looked at her with that kind of longing. Absolutely no way. She had to be…forgiving him? Letting it go? Something.

He'd take it.

He gave her a quick and nervous half smile and then stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching as she walked slowly towards him. And then taking his place next to her as they turned and began to walk away. He listed in the direction from whence they had come, but she was leading them differently.

"Are we not going back?" he asked.

"We sort of made a loop. It's the same distance if we go this way and we can see new things."

"How big_ is_ this place?"

"It's really not that big. I don't know why you are so focused on it."

"Because I didn't know about it. Still having a bit of trouble fitting this place in my 'Kate Beckett' mental box."

"Maybe you should toss a few things out to make room. Preferably anything Lanie has ever said to you."

"Nope. Never gonna happen. What goes in the box stays in the box."

They carried on their soft banter and easy smiles for a long time, sharing stories and laughter. Emerging from the woods in a completely different area of the property, he breathed in the scent of the wind as it flew freely over the grass, warmed by the sun. It was late afternoon my now, but the sun was no less warm and the sky no less blue.

"Are we almost there?" he asked, not complaining, but curious. He was completely turned around.

"A while still, but not too much further."

"How are you? I mean, your…thing." He indicated her scar with a swirling finger.

She didn't answer him immediately, but seemed to take a moment to actually think about her response. He wished she wouldn't. He didn't want some reply designed specifically for him. He wanted the truth.

"It's…sore. I've never even been half this distance walking by myself yet."

He grabbed her elbow and stopped their slow progression through the field. "Why didn't you say something? We should have turned around, Kate."

"I was having fun. I haven't—It was nice, Castle. Having someone to walk with and share it all with. I didn't want to go back."

"But, Kate. You're still healing. You can't push because things are fun."

"I didn't push that hard. I'm really more tired than hurt. I promise."

Oh, that was ever-so-comforting.

"Why don't we rest then. Just for a while."

She bit her lip and he ran his thumb along the crease of her elbow. Turning away from him, she looked out at what he assumed was the direction of the house.

"No. I can make it. Let's just keep going. I can do this. I don't want to stop."

She pulled from his hold on her and he didn't try to keep her. Knew that tone of voice she had just used. Had memorized it to know when to pick his battles and when to brace for a war. She was going to keep burning through and he wasn't going to stop her. He sure as hell was going to drag his feet and walk as slowly as possible though. Keep at least some strain off of her wounds. He followed her, but made sure to stay a bit behind. Forcing her to keep the pace low.

They came to a small hill in the field, nothing intimidating, but Kate hesitated as they started the climb. She began to lag. He no longer had to force a slower pace; she was setting one of her own. Her breath was strained and she tilted hard to the side. Her feet stuttered a bit and dragged through the grass, knocking the seeds off the dandelion puffs that lightly spotted this side of the hill. His stomach clenched in fear. What if her heart just…stopped? What if it hadn't healed properly and this last burst of exertion up the hill caused it to simply give up? He clenched his teeth against the thought.

Finally at the top of the hill, she reached out a hand and steadied herself on his shoulder. As much weight as she could from this angle. He didn't care about their boundaries. Not when her breathing had a slight wheeze to it. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he took as much of her weight as possible on himself. Her arm fell naturally around his neck and she let her head fall to his shoulder.

Yeah. Kate Beckett must be out of her mind right now. She would never lean on him like this if it weren't absolutely necessary.

"Kate—"

"I know, Castle. I know. Let's sit for a while. You were right, okay? You were right." Her breath still came too hard, hot on his neck. He could feel her ribs under his arms and the fragility made him want to just carry her the rest of the way home. Too thin. She was too thin. She was going to break.

She pulled away from him and slid her hand all the way from his neck to his hand, her sweaty palm pressing against his.

"Let's get to the bottom and rest there."

The gentle slope down the hill seemed to be much easier for her and they found themselves on relatively flat ground soon. The wind rushed along the ground and pushed itself up the hill, swooping with the grass and taking a flurry of white dandelion seeds with it. They rose en masse, departing from their weightless globes in a botanical snow.

"Here good?" he asked.

"As good as any. I just need to rest for a little. Not long, I promise."

"Kate, I don't have anywhere to be. Take as long as you want. As long as it takes."

She smiled and he took the moment to sit first, patting the ground with his hand to see if it was damp. He sat down awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with this legs. Opting to just stretch them out in front of him, he rested his weight on his hands behind him. Looking up at Kate, he saw the fading end of a gentle smile.

She sank slowly to her knees, using his shoulder to bear the brunt of her weight as she lowered herself. They sat in silence for a few moments before she turned to him, silly grin on her face.

"This is weird. I feel so random just sitting out here."

"This is what people dream about doing. Getting away from the city and sitting down in a field. Absorb it. Enjoy it."

"Still feels weird."

He smiled. "A little. Definitely."

Then she surprised him by lying down in the grass, wiggling her eyebrows as she sank. Her face disappeared from view, hidden by a wall of the tall blades of wild grass. He scooted forward and pushed up on his side to look over the barrier and down at her. Streaked now with blonde from her daily walks in the sun, her lightened brown hair spread out around her, in riotous waves.

He snuck a finger through the grass to touch a piece, letting it smooth along the pad of his finger. Her eyes were closed, but as soon as she opened them he withdrew his hand. He'd already pushed his limits far enough today, hadn't he? Her eyes reflected the blue sky, which brought the green out. Made them shine.

She turned her head towards him and watched him watch her. Their eyes met and unbidden flashing memories assaulted his mind. She was lying in grass, but it was manicured and sharp. The green hurt his eyes. The blue of the sky above didn't reflect in her eyes, it blinded them. Masked them.

He swallowed hard. Tried to focus on the Kate in front of him. The Kate whose blood was looping continuously through her body and not leaking out into his hands and onto the too green grass. He broke the eye contact. Searching for a distraction. Something. Anything.

He found a lonely tree off to the side at the foot of the hill. Focused on the poetry he could make from it. The words he could form around it. Words about bark and branches. Words that had no love and no heartbreak.

The tree was bare of any leaves, clearly no longer alive and only still standing out of pure habit, its trunk and crown a silver arm reaching up from the ground and bursting into a hand of a thousand fingers. A dense net of branches, the afternoon blue sky was barely visible between the complex crossings. Black lace against the pale skin of the heavens.

Her voice drew him back from his distraction.

"What are you looking at?"

He put his eyes back on her and saw only the present. The light was soft here. Pastels. A gentle palate of sounds and colors. Quieter. Things moved slowly, unhurried.

A whisper was enough. It was all he used. "Nothing. Just…a tree."

"Didn't get enough of them in the forest? Now you've got to seek them out on the open plain?" Her smile was sly and a hint of her pink tongue pressed against her teeth. Teasing. He loved when she teased.

"Tree was just to keep me from staring at you."

She laughed. She'd done so much of that today and each time filled one of the little cracks in his heart that the month apart had cost him.

"Yeah well. I appreciate that, really. Now lie down and don't stare at anything at all, please."

He plucked a waving dandelion, bringing it to his lips. Pausing to word his wish exactly the way he wanted it, he closed his eyes and then blew the seeds from the stem. Opening his eyes, he watched as they floated off to join the others, taking his wish with them.

"What did you wish for?"

He gave her a 'duh' look, not even willing to entertain that particular question. He picked another dandelion and smiled at her before closing his eyes again and blowing the seeds out in a wild gust of breath. Looking down at her, he smiled back at her unconscious smile. The one that was sneaking up the corners of her lips as she watched him making wishes.

Without breaking his eye contact, he grabbed yet another dandelion. This one he unleashed without closing his eyes, watching as the last of the little wish carriers quavered on in its bed before releasing and floating peacefully away.

"Come on, Kate." He turned to pluck a dandelion, passing it over the little grass wall to her. "Make a wish."

She shook her head. "No, no. You keep going."

He brought it back to his side and then put as much force as he could behind this one. Sending little wishes out into the world. They would settle somewhere and bloom. It was a pleasant thought, such beautiful fission. His wishes might take root and come true and give the opportunity for someone else to make a wish. Attain their heart's desire.

"My lungs need a break. Now come on, your turn."

He handed over another dandelion, but a flash of sadness flew across her eyes as she shook her head. "Not for me. Really. I don't believe in them. You do it. They'll work for a believer like you."

"Just one, Kate?"

"Castle, I don't want to."

"Why not?"

She sighed and looked at the unconcerned clouds above before turning back to him, locking eyes with him. So green today. So deep and gorgeous. So heartbreaking. And then, so quietly he wasn't sure he'd even heard her begin to speak, her voice carried over to him, sad and convinced.

"My dreams would just weigh them down. Too heavy. Too much for a little seed."

His words hid from him. How could he fix this? How could he fix her? His sad, flawed, beautiful, tender woman? She deserved her wishes. She deserved her dreams and hopes and desires. She deserved every single dandelion in this massive field. All of them. To carry her heart for her and make everything come true.

Her gaze was still locked on his, waiting for a response. And then he found it. He found they way to erase the ache in her eyes. He found a way to bring back her smile. He found the subtext and the subtlety and the words that she would need.

Reaching out, he pinched the tiny little seed that had been caught in her hair like the snow of summer. Woven into the very rim of the frizz that lined her waves, he ran his fingers along the whole strand of her hair, pulling it free.

"This one seems pretty attached to you…just wish on him. I bet he can take it."

She understood. He could see it in her eyes. _Just wish on him, Kate. Just trust him to carry your heart._

He held it out between his fingers in front of her lips. She watched him, peace settling into her eyes. A few other things as well, things that drew him in. Things that pulled him apart.

She closed her eyes.

_Just trust him, Kate._

She breathed for a while with her eyes closed, making a long wish or simply existing, he did not know. Her closed lashes flickered long shadows on her cheeks. And then she pursed her pretty lips together, finally ready to wish on the brave, little seed.

He lowered his fingers and brought his lips down to press gently against hers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dandelions**

A story by daphnebeauty

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Four: Taking Root<span>

She forgot.

For a moment, every lariat of restraint she'd bound around herself was forgotten and she let herself fall. Free. It was so easy to let the softness of his kiss settle the opaque, velvet fog of an untraceable happiness over her. Every thought and every worry was wiped gently away as she sank deeper and deeper into the most wonderful sensation. Drowning and floating in one perfect kiss.

And then it was over.

Entirely too soon. Her neck strained, a stem toward the sun, seeking more, seeking the heavy drug of his kiss, unwilling to open her eyes and let reality rush in. No. Another kiss would be better. More of that hazy mist submerging her in a painless ocean, suspended halfway down a fathomless infinity. Her lips sought to no avail.

Dim awareness began to creep back in through the convoluted and cloudy sulci of her mind. She felt the itch of the grass on the backs of her arms and through her shirt, cool and damp despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. The passing glance of a breeze stole over her and cooled the last, moist trace of his kiss on her lower lip. Without thinking, she pulled it between her teeth to keep it for herself and away from the wind that threatened to erase it.

She could taste him and…something. Something ancient and inevitable was in that kiss. Something well-worn, but untold. It had felt like the beginning and end of the universe, all at once.

She opened her eyes. The world was too bright and too clear. She blinked and focused on him, the silhouette that blocked the direct rays of the sun from her face. Slowly she adjusted and his features lightened to her sight, withdrawing from the darkness her own vision had plunged him in.

He looked stunned. He looked like _she_ had been the one to softly kiss him by surprise. His gaze was locked intently on her opened eyes and he seemed immovably wedged in inaction, waiting for her response. There was fear there, somewhere, tempered with righteousness. The look of someone who has gone rogue.

"Castle…" Her voice started the sentence with no destination in mind. Just his name. A question and a plea, a prayer and a provocation, a balm and an impetus. She couldn't say more. He had kissed her and stolen her words.

The look in his eyes was painfully familiar. Something about the way he hovered and the desperation that suddenly spilled forth from blue irises, like she was going to leave him at any moment.

_Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate._

The words echoed in her mind, bouncing in sparks of epiphany. He was looking at her on the ground and seeing a bullet instead of a kiss. Just one more thing that could take her away from him. She watched as he blinked, pulled his head further away, and began backtracking. He was trying to climb out of a hole that he hadn't even dug. She couldn't let him take it away. She couldn't stand witness to the nullification of their kiss.

"Kate, I—"

"You love me."

He gasped, pulling even further away from her. He tried to speak again, denials on his tongue that couldn't pass his lips.

"You love me. I heard you."

"You…"

"I heard you, Castle. I remember everything. I never forgot. I just—I couldn't. I couldn't…"

"You were embarrassed for me."

_What? No._ "No!" She sat up as quickly as she could and grabbed at the forearm that bore his weight. Her fingers pushed into his muscle, willing him to understand and to come back from where he'd gone adrift. They'd spent the day holding hands, sharing laughter, moving forward. And now he was sinking back, pulled by some incomprehensible undertow of doubt.

"No, Castle. Not embarrassed. I don't even…how could I be embarrassed? Just not ready, you know? I just wasn't ready for it all."

He nodded, but he didn't understand. Not really. She wasn't doing this right. He was withdrawing from her even as she tightened her grip on his arm, pulling away even as she tried to keep him.

"Kate, look. I'm sorry."

"No. Please don't. Please don't apologize. Please don't take it back. You don't understand what I am trying to say. It's just that…" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, gathering words and trying to fit them in the right order. This was important. This couldn't be redone. She had to make him understand why. She opened her eyes and let them cling to his.

"Castle, I couldn't have your heart yet. Not yet. Not when my own was still aching from a bullet. Not when Montgomery had broken it twice in the span of ten minutes. Not when my entire life had been so…so…irrevocably altered. How was I supposed to take your heart, keep your heart, protect your heart when I was so utterly incapable of doing the same for my own? How could I trade your heart for mine, when mine is in shambles? You deserve so much more than that, Rick. I want to be able to give you so much more than that."

She was out of breath, panting as if she'd climbed the hill again. She could feel the frantic beat of her heart and it hurt_, it hurt_.

He was silent and looking into the distance at the stark tree, but he was still. Not pulling away. Not recanting his actions or saying ridiculous things like apologies. She eased her grip on his arm and softened her voice. This was her plea.

"Castle, I'm just not ready. You deserve so much more than what I am now. We deserve so much more. Let me be ready. Just…wait for me?"

He turned his eyes back to her and relief spilled through her veins. He understood. She could see it in him and it was the most beautiful relief she'd felt since the bullet had pierced her chest.

"Yeah. I can wait." There was a soft smile in his eyes as he reached over and placed a warm hand over hers. They stayed like that for a few moments, listening to the birds and letting the sun soak into their skin.

He squeezed the hand that he held and asked, "Ready to go home?"

She smiled, grateful for the man next to her. How he knew her. How he loved her. How he'd wait for her.

"Yes. I'm ready."

* * *

><p>Yeah. He could do it. He could wait. Everything she had said, everything she hadn't said, every emotion he had seen desperately thrown from her eyes…it had all convinced him that waiting for her could quite possibly be the single best thing he would ever do. "Not now" implied <em>later<em>. "Not ready" had a hidden _yet_. And she had said that she _wanted_ to give him so much more. She wanted this. Them.

And that meant everything.

They walked in silence, but it wasn't laden with embarrassment or awkwardness. He was thinking only of her confession, an apology and a promise he would hold close. Whenever he glanced to his side, she was looking off into the distance or at her feet, nibbling the pink skin of her lip.

He liked to think she was reliving his kiss.

_Oh, that kiss_. Closing his consciousness to the world around him, he spilled his mind into the memory…

...

Juicy like a summer plum, all tart skin and sweet flesh, so full that it nearly pops with a bite. His heart was pounding uncontrollably in his chest, warning him of its limits and how it could hardly handle the feel of her. His mind was racing around thoughts of disbelief.

It was surreal and over entirely too soon. He immediately wanted a do-over. A hundred do-overs. He wanted to catalogue the exact feel of her lips against his, where their hands were, and what it sounded like. He wanted to write poetry in his mind about this kiss, but all he could remember was the roaring rush of adrenaline and the coursing incredulity.

And then he opened his eyes.

Her lips were pink and parted, shining from his kiss. Eyes still closed, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and pulled at it slowly. His heart stuttered and his breathing stopped, because it looked like she was trying to savor the very last of him. Even when she could have more whenever she wanted.

He'd kissed her and she was still trying to taste him.

Her eyes opened so slowly it looked as if she were waking from a deep sleep, eyelids pulled up by the steady sunrise itself. So beautiful. They locked onto his, deep and unreadable and he didn't dare move. He couldn't bring himself to pull away and wouldn't risk the dive back in.

Oh God, he had kissed her. He'd finally slipped on that rock solid self-control and caved. Undone by perfect lips and the chance at a wish. But she had done everything, given him every sign, every indication that she didn't want this. She wasn't ready for anything with him. She might not even _want_ anything with him. All day he'd been pushing his limits: Showing up here in the first place, holding her hand, saying those things to her in the chapel.

This would be the final straw. There was no way she could gracefully let him go with yet another violation of those so very carefully drawn lines between them. This would be the thing that ends it. She wouldn't be able to ignore his blatant love anymore. She'd have to tell him to leave. It was over. He couldn't regret it. Wouldn't. He would live the rest of his life with that kiss in his mind. In his heart.

He felt her exhale brush against his lips, a gentle ghost of the kiss he'd given her. His name left her lips on a sigh.

"Castle…"

…

He smiled to himself at the memory of his name on her lips. He loved the way she had whispered it on a quiet sigh, breathless from his kiss. He longed to hear her say it that way again_, oh please_, again. But he was waiting. She could sigh it endlessly into his ear as soon as she was ready, but until then, he would wait.

She slipped her hand into his.

Huh. If this was going to be included in the waiting process, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked keeping her face purposefully forward so he could continue to wonder at the mystery of_ how did she know?_

"Pick a thing. Anything. All the things."

"Really, Castle? All the things?" The doubtful look she shot him begged for banter.

"Hmm, let's see." He held his free hand out in front of them and started ticking off his fingers. "I got to see you today after a whole month of the incommunicado business, discovered you own a real haunted house, held your hand in the absence of a life threatening situation, listened to your childhood tales, and…is that it? Am I forgetting anything?"

She bumped him with her shoulder. "Castle."

"Oh, that's right. I kissed you."

"You kissed me."

"See? All in all, plenty of reasons for the smile."

She rolled her eyes, but he noticed a definite smile stealing across her own face. Apparently, these reasons weren't exclusive to him alone. Staring at the curve of her lips and the slope of her nose, he missed the wayward stick in his path, half hidden in the tall grass. His ruined but mostly dry Italian shoe was caught under it, halting the forward momentum of his body. Trying to save himself a fall, he hopped forward on his free leg and attempted to shake off the stick.

He felt her strong grip on his upper arm as she tried to keep him upright and her surprised cry of _Oh_!

"Nope, nope. I'm good. I'm good." He was still hopping forward with more of a bounce.

She was laughing at him and he stopped his bouncing. Watching as the laugh drew her face into a wide open-mouthed smile, he caught a glimpse of pink tongue. The sun was dancing on her face and he wondered if he would ever get used to seeing her like this. So happy. Because of him.

He wanted to kiss her again. Make her forget his blundering fall and smile for entirely different reasons. Did waiting mean no kissing? It obviously didn't preclude hand-holding, but kissing was different, right? Yes. Kissing was different. He sighed and filed away another IOU of a kiss for a nebulous someday.

She was clutching her side right below her scar, and her smile had turned into more of a grimace.

"Hey, are you okay? Do we need to rest again?"

"No, I'm fine. We are almost there. Look." She raised their linked hands to gesture in the distance.

He pulled his eyes away from where they had been searching for signs of her imminent collapse. A couple hundred meters from them, the house rose from a waving sea of grass. Land ho.

"You can make it that far?"

She gave him a look and he shut his mouth. No hovering. Got it. The effect of her look was lessened by the sheen of sweat on her forehead and the heavy pant of her breath. He needed to get her home and in bed. For the rest of the day. Maybe he'd call in a masseuse or a doctor. Couldn't be too careful.

"Castle, I'm really going to be fine. Stop worrying." She squeezed his fingers and he tried to repress the urge to carry her home and lay her on a bed of feathers and fluff.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face, swiping it through his hair. "I just want you to be okay again, Beckett."

She turned to him and swept her fingers softly through his hair, smoothing it down where he'd riled it up. "Give it time."

* * *

><p>Her body slick with sweat and heart pounding, she squinted to see past the gasoline rainbow closing in on the corners of her vision. Her hand clenched around the frame of the front door, looking for support. Her neck was a wilted stem, hardly able to bear the unsteady weight of her head. She'd made it this far, why was her body caving in now? The sudden rush of air conditioning and the promise of a couch for her weary muscles swiped at the back of her knees, buckling them.<p>

"Kate."

She blinked away the rainbow of silver.

"Yeah. I'm good. Just get me to the couch."

She didn't care about the crumpled sandpaper wedged in her throat. Didn't care about the way she was swaying with each thrum of her tired heart. Didn't care about any of it. She needed to lie down and she had no more energy left to hide it all from Castle.

Before she'd even had the chance to push off from the wall and step towards the furniture, she felt his strong arm wrap around her waist, a band of unyielding support. He practically carried her to the couch as she shuffled her feet along in a mime of independent walking.

He lowered her down and as she stared up at him from her supine position, she finally sifted through her own exhaustion enough to see the worry and pain in his own eyes.

Her hand weakly came up to brush along his cheek lightly, trying to make the furrow in his brow disappear. "I'm okay, I promise."

"Stop saying that."

She smiled guiltily and dropped her hand onto the couch, closing her eyes with a sigh. "Yeah, okay. But only if you stop looking at me like that."

"Deal."

She listened to the silence in the house, nothing at all like it had been on their walk, empty of grass and birds and leaves and wishes and the sound of their footsteps in the woods. Funny how silences could be so very different. She heard the hum and click of the fan above her and a clock far away in another room. That was all. Too quiet.

"I'm going to get you some water. And coffee—no wait, tea—and maybe some food? Are you hungry? I'll find something."

She opened her eyes and watched as the man she loved but wasn't ready for stuttered through the silence, filling it with his voice, warm and unsure.

"Water is fine, Castle." She hadn't realized how thirsty she had been. He nodded eagerly and hustled out of the room.

She could hear him in the kitchen a moment later, opening and shutting cabinets, the suction of the refrigerator door, clinking rattle of ice in a glass. Closing her eyes again, she waited for him to return. She was surprised his hovering hadn't been worse today, he'd either been restraining himself or she'd done a better job hiding her struggle than she'd thought. She'd half expected him to haul her back to the city and into a doctor's care by the end of the day.

It seemed that maybe his desire to keep her happy was winning over his need to coddle.

She listened to her own heart beating. Let it fill the cracks that had appeared when he'd left the room. _Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum_. It was steadily slowing down to a more controllable pace, one that didn't have her half afraid it would give out. She controlled each breath she drew in and released. It always helped her to relax if she could make her heart and her lungs work in some sort of rhythm. One that didn't shake her bones and pull at her scars.

"A light lunch for the lady."

Castle was back, precariously balancing a full plate and two glasses of ice water. She reached up to relieve him of one of the glasses and he smiled his thanks.

"Alright. This is what I rustled up. Some orange slices, grapes, banana, and cold chicken. Weak, I know."

"No, it looks delicious." She sat up slowly, careful of her aching torso.

"You sure do have a lot of fruit here. Practically had to hunt the chicken myself just to get a little protein in this meal."

"Hunt?" She raised her eyebrow. Ridiculous man.

"Whatever."

She popped a grape in her mouth. Too sour. She scrunched her nose up in distaste before sliding in two banana slices to sweetly chase the tang away. She looked up at her partner and watched as he tried to suck the juice from an orange slice without dribbling or slurping. She pursed her lips to hide her smile, and then tossed in another grape without thinking.

Pursing her lips, she pushed the rest of the grapes further away from her on the plate. "My dad always buys the green ones. Who likes green grapes? So sour."

"I like green grapes."

"You and my dad. Aliens."

"Little green grape aliens."

"Big, fat freak aliens."

He smiled, eyes crinkling and irises twinkling. _Oh, wow_. She could joke and be light if it meant his eyes would keep doing that. Beautiful man. She smiled back, pleased with herself.

"I had fun today, Castle. I'm glad you came."

"Yeah? Me too. Now eat the chicken."

She grabbed a chunk of the cold, shredded chicken breast and popped it into her mouth, chewing exaggeratedly.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

She smiled at the dry words that accompanied his pleased smirk. Sticking another piece of chicken in her mouth, she leaned into the pillow behind her and let her head fall back. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the feel of the sun sifting through the large windows. She felt like she was actually breathing in the light, letting it fill her lungs and filter into her blood.

All this because of him?

Of course. Of course this was his effect. Of course he made it easier, filled the dark with light, pushed himself between her tender heart and the pain that stormed it. It's what he'd always done for her. A balm and a cure and someone to help shoulder the burdens. He should know. He should know.

"You make it so much better, Castle."

She heard nothing but the whir of the fan overhead.

"This. Me. My life. You make it so much better."

Still nothing. She opened her eyes and turned her head on the pillow to face him, blinking slowly through the thick air, lashes wading through the light. She watched as he warred with himself, choosing words, ordering them, holding them back.

"You don't have to do this alone, Kate."

Her eyes closed again. His eyes were begging her to see so much more than they wanted to.

"I don't need you, Castle."

She hoped he saw her words for what they were. Not an attack. Not a defense or an offense or any other tactic. There was no venom, just the singular need for him to see, to understand why.

"I know that."

She breathed through the moment, grateful yet again for how much he knew her. Knew that she wasn't pushing him away. After a pause, he reached his hand out and connected them again. Rubbing his thumb absently against the top of her hand in small, unconscious circles he continued.

"And_ you_ know that. So who exactly are you trying to prove it to, Kate?"

Turning her head away again, she sighed, breathing out all that lovely light.

"I don't know anymore. It's all just too much. Too much."

"But I make it better."

"Yes." No use anymore. No more fight left. Why not make it easy? Why not make it better?

"Then how about you let me. And I promised you—I promised you that I would wait. However long it takes, Kate, I'll wait. But let me wait _with_ you, not just for you. Let me help along the way. Let me—"

"Okay, Castle. Okay. Stay with me."

Somehow her eyes were on him again. Unconsciously drawn to him as she rested on her couch, watching him as he pleaded his irrefutable case. His mouth hung open mid-argument and his brow furrowed ever so slightly in confusion. She reached her hand across the space between them and thumbed at the wrinkle.

"You mean…here? Stay here with you?"

She laughed. Couldn't help it.

"Well, yes. But no, that's not what I meant. Just stay with me for all of it. Wait with me. Make it easier."

His eyes filled with all that gorgeous love that she wanted so badly to be able to have all to herself. Out in the open. Freely.

"Can I visit you next week too?"

"You can visit me whenever you want."

"Don't open that door too wide, Beckett. You'll never get rid of me." He raised an eyebrow as he teased her. But she wanted so much more than a tease. She wanted him to know how much it all meant. Everything.

"That's what I'm hoping for."

He ducked his head down and let it bounce in a nod as he took it all in, squeezing the hand he had yet to let go. Throwing a grape into his mouth, he pulled back from her. She could sense his need to add levity, to let one of the most important conversations they'd ever had be punctuated by a laugh and an easing of the tension.

"Alright. What's next on the to do list for the day? Movie marathon? I'd love to see which movies you've deemed worthy of purchase. Says a lot about a person."

She pushed herself up with an elbow and swung her legs slowly over the edge of the couch to rest her feet on the floor.

"I hate to disappoint, but we don't have a TV here."

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"There's no TV."

"Does not compute."

"Castle. You can't be that surprised. I don't have one at my place in the city either."

"You don't?"

"You've _been_ there, Castle! I'm sure you've noticed."

"I just thought it was in your bedroom or something." His eyes were far too astonished. Shocked, really. It wasn't _that _odd to not own a TV. He was overreacting.

"No. Haven't had one in years."

"But…why?"

"I don't know, Castle. I guess I just have other things I enjoy more when I actually have time for myself. It's not like I hate television or movies or anything. I just like other things more."

"Hmm. I'm not sure if I can ever come to terms with this, Beckett."

"Try."

"Nope. Can't. You've sprung too many Beckett secrets on me today. I've got no ammo left to deal with this one. No more storage space."

"Well, I hope you survive."

"I guess. What on earth are we going to do the rest of the day? For that matter, what on earth have you been doing every day up here?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the couch, attempting to escape the conversation that seemed to be on its way into a circular pattern. "Lots of stuff, Castle. Reading, gardening, walking, sleeping."

"Right. Those things."

She smiled and grabbed the plate from the coffee table, walking it into the kitchen. He followed.

"Well, you've already gardened today. And we just went on the world's longest walk. So would you rather read or sleep next?"

She dumped the plate into the sink and stretched her neck from side to side, feeling the pull of muscles that really should not be sore from just_ walking_. Washing her hands off in the sink, she dried them on a towel and then folded her arms against her stomach. Her shirt was still damp from her sweat, cooled by the air-conditioning inside, but uncomfortable nonetheless. She leaned her hip against the counter and tilted her head at the partner that had followed her even when she had been hiding.

"Actually, I'm thinking a bath sounds lovely."

He choked.

Through a fit of hacking, strangled sounds, she was able to discern, "What—Kate—_together_?"

Oh, seriously? She rolled her eyes and waited for the red in his face to drain out and the coughing to cease.

"Not together." And then for old time's sake and in a hunt for a smile, "Richard Castle, I never." She brushed by him as she left the kitchen, hearing what sounded like "_never?"_ murmured somewhere behind her.

* * *

><p>After she had disappeared through the swinging doors of the kitchen, he closed his slack jaw and kicked his feet into gear to follow her out. He caught the swish of her hair and a glimpse of her chin before it disappeared. She'd been checking to see if he'd followed. <em>Of course, Kate. Where else would I be?<em>

"So this bath," he started as she placed her foot on the first stair and began to climb. "I'm not invited?"

"Uh. No."

He reached out on impulse to steady her ascent with a hand at her elbow. "So what exactly am I supposed to do while you're…" _Naked. Soapy. Splashing. Naked._ "In there?"

"Whatever you want."

"Clearly _not_ whatever I want."

"Whatever you want that doesn't involve you in there with me."

"Hmm. That's limiting."

They reached the top of the stairs and he reluctantly slid his fingers from the cool, smooth skin of her arm. Her eyes drew down to where the pads of his fingers lingered on her wrist, independent of his control. Autonomous and entirely unwilling to release her completely.

"I'm just going to start the water." She stepped away from him down the hallway with the cherry wood floors. Her hand lingered behind longer than the rest of her and his stomach clenched, wanting to snag her fingertips and place a kiss to their tips.

"Ok." He said instead, keeping his feet in place and his lips to himself.

She disappeared through a door at the end of the hall and soon he heard the distinct music of water splashing onto a ceramic surface. He stepped forward, curiosity overriding decorum as he sought to see the room into which she'd vanished.

Reaching the door, he slid a hand up the frame and leaned over the threshold. Huge arched windows covered two walls of the bathroom, letting in the clean light of the country sun. Vibrant, red geraniums in window boxes spilled along the sill and splashed the room with life. Beckett stood with her back to him, folding a towel with gentle hands and draping it over her arm.

"Hey," he said in a soft voice.

"I'll show you the books in a second, Castle." She leaned tentatively over to check the depth of the water climbing the edges of the porcelain clawfoot tub. "Here. Come with me."

Laying the towel over the arm of a chair, she brushed by him through the door with a small flick of her eyes up to his through her lashes. They walked further down the hallway, loud creaks from the wooden floorboards marking their progress, and turned around a sharp corner at the end.

"Uh, the room at the end on the left has our books in it. We cleared most of them out and split them between our places in the city, but there should still be a few here. Just not, you know, the favorites or standbys. Random stuff, really."

"I like random."

"I keep trying to remember to remind my dad to bring some back with him next time, but I always forget."

"I can bring some with me next time. Anything in particular you want?"

"Oh, um. Surprise me? Just bring a stack of whatever you think I might like."

"Harlequins it is."

She flicked a cool eyebrow up at him, the corner of her lip following. "I'm not opposed to a good romance novel. Just maybe throw in some variety."

"So, some good bodice ripping books and a few mystery thrillers coming your way. That's the special thing about my books, though. Two in one."

"Yes, you're quite the renaissance man. A little bit of everything for everyone, including some wildly implausible delusions."

"Hey. Don't knock the delusions. People like my delusions."

"Doesn't mean you should abuse the power. Seriously, Castle. How many times did Derrick Storm get knocked unconscious per book? And yet no brain damage."

"Unless you count that last bullet."

"Other than that, though. His head must have been as thick as yours."

"Alright, alright. Let's leave my ego at least marginally intact please, shall we? Go check your bathwater."

Her head turned to look back down the hall. "Oh. Right. I should make sure I don't flood the place." Her body followed the shift of her gaze in a slow drop step. She laid a single hand in the crook of his elbow before letting it slide away as she left him.

He watched her until she turned the corner, unable to reconcile himself to the unbelievable change in their relationship in only one day. Just one day and she was letting her hands linger on his arm and hands and knees. She was looking at him with hopeful eyes, deeper and brighter than his heart could stand. Everything was shifting. He could feel it in the air that swirled around him like a river current, pulling him and them and their world into a new conformation.

She just needed him to wait and let it happen on its own without pushing and forcing the current to take them there faster. Wait for her to be ready.

And bring her books in the meantime.

He exhaled a lungful of that electric air and then made the walk down the hall to delve into the promisingly fascinating library of the Becketts' country home. The door creaked lightly when it opened and revealed a small room lit by the natural light of two windows. An uncomfortable looking chair was mashed up in the corner with about six shoeboxes on the worn and pilling seat.

Along the windows were several short stacks of books, but Castle headed toward a low bookshelf stuffed with intermixed paperbacks, hardbacks, and old magazines. He fingered the folded and faded edges of a few National Geographics, smiling lightly at the especially worn issue featuring African elephants.

Perhaps Kate had sat on this creaking wood floor as a girl, letting the sun warm her skinny, crossed legs as she studied the centerfold pictures of elephants on the savannah and vowed to one day see one for herself. His knees cracked as he crouched down low in front of the bookshelf and fingered the edge of a general chemistry textbook, the "used" sticker peeling off the spine.

The entire cubby was full of straggling textbooks, reference volumes, and what looked like a small collection of hunting and fishing guides. He huffed a laugh when he noticed that they only owned the V volume of an encyclopedia and it looked entirely untouched. She was right, this really was a ragtag bunch of books. Misfits and oddballs.

Feeling the impending ache in his knees from squatting, he pulled out a few paperbacks with interesting titles and decided to just go with it. After all, it couldn't hurt to try out the books the Becketts had left behind. You could find out just as much about a person from what they didn't want as you could from what they did. Plus he was kind of stoked about diving into Bare Trap. What a name.

He gripped three books in one hand and left the room to go find a place to sit and read while he waited for Kate. From the corner of his eye, just as he started to turn and head back down the hallway, he saw a dark recess in the wall. Abruptly changing his path, he walked toward the niche to investigate exactly where it led.

Stairs. Six steep stairs and a railing that led to a plain wooden door. It was too short for a grown man and seemed to almost pulse with an aura of prohibition. He had to go in. Taking the stairs two at a time and using the railing heavily for leverage, he grabbed at the doorknob and twisted, giving only a single short pause before pushing it open.

Reaching for a light switch to illuminate the dark mystery room, his hand groped at the wall nearest the door. Flicking on the dangling, incandescent bulb, he was greeted by an attic. A very plain, very typical attic. Taped-up boxes and unused furniture filled most of the space and the air was stale with the scent of dust and raw wood.

He pushes back the vague feeling of disappointment at the ordinary nature of the attic and steps forward just to take a look. There is a stack of identical brass bed frames, almost twelve or so, leaning against the far wall. Why on earth would there be so many in Kate's attic?

Unless the girls' school story is true...and those are the beds of the creepy little cannibal girls. He'd had himself half convinced that Kate was making the whole thing up just to mess with him. Repressing a shudder and a few very graphic imaginings, Castle moved across the dusty floor to get a closer look at those dismantled beds.

Running a tentative finger along one brass post, he felt the warm metal beneath his fingers, remarkably heated from the lack of air conditioning. This whole room was stifling, come to think of it. No airflow whatsoever. Almost immediately, his body seemed to catch up with his mind's observations and a flushing heat rose through him.

Too hot to have this particular adventure today. As he lifted a leg to step over a box with too many strikeout labels to correctly identify, his eye caught on yet another mysterious door. He felt the long slide of a sweat rivulet down his back and the attention it drew from him only brought more beads to grow on his chest and brow. So hot.

But so intriguing. A door in an attic of a potentially haunted mansion couldn't possibly be something he could resist and still respect himself in the morning. Surely Beckett wouldn't mind, right? He was already snooping. Might as well be thorough.

Scraping his forehead along the material of his T-shirt before the sweat could drip into his eyes, he picked his way around boxes and bins to the door. He reached out to grab the handle and twisted it, hoping this room held something remotely more interesting.

_Oh wow._

It was much smaller, but absolutely filled with cool...stuff. He was immediately drawn to the three large steamer trunks. _Oh, so awesome._ He definitely needed one for his apartment. Maybe as a coffee table.

Pushing a stack of untitled black books out of his way, he kneeled down in front of the trunk and pried open the latch. He should have waited for Kate to do this with him. That thrilling flare of adventure coursing through his limbs seemed only half as consuming without her there. She made adventures more fun and he wanted to share these discoveries with her.

Lifting up the surprisingly heavy lid of the trunk he peered inside with bated breath. Papers were wrapped up with string, loose photographs were scattered haphazardly, and the frilled lace of little dresses were folded into faded piles. Hats, brushes, ribbons, and books filled the spaces in between.

Castle let out a single breath of awed laughter and then reached in to grab a bundle of envelopes and a leather journal. Laying them down on top of his previously gathered paperbacks, he dove back into the treasure chest and pulled out a dress. The faded navy cloth with a white lace bib and petticoat unfolded with gravity, permanently creased by its long stay in the trunk.

He had a flash to a time when Alexis had refused to go to school in anything but the fluffiest dresses and biggest bows. Smiling to himself, he remembered how she always came home with the knees of her white tights dirty from the playground and her ribbon askew. She liked the frills, but she always played hard. Such an imagination.

He'd loved folding up her pretty clothes fresh from the laundry or hanging them on tiny hangers. Something so simple had always made him feel like a good dad, even when he felt like he was floundering alone in single parenthood. Maybe next time he'd have a partner to fold dresses with him. It wasn't that far-fetched was it? Not now. Not that he had a "not yet" to hang onto, put stock in. "Not yet" could very easily turn into "soon" and then "now" and then "forever". Forever could very well include folding Lilliputian clothes and tying wonky bows.

Gathering the dress up with all the other items, he stood and left the attics. His body was thrumming with the absolutely overwhelming need to share it all with Kate. Coming up to the bathroom door, his stomach twisted.

Something about the image of them folding little dresses together mixing with the knowledge that he'd kissed her and she was currently naked and wet just feet away from him made his chemistry go haywire. Adrenaline rode on the quivering wings of his butterflies as he shuffled the pile of treasure in his arms to finagle a way to knock on the door.

Giving up, he simply shouted through the wood to her. He could hear the excitement, pure and raw in his voice.

"Hey, Kate! You won't believe what I found in that attic inside the attic! All sorts of cool stuff. Did you know it was there? What am I saying, of course you did. But, holy cow, Beckett. Letters and old clothes and trunks and books and—"

"Castle, stop yelling through the door."

Oh. He'd spoiled her relaxing bath. His stomach dropped with the realization and his arms tensed around the load he carried. He should've saved it for when she got out, but he had just been so very eager and he'd wanted to share it with her. Clearing his throat, he stumbled over an apology.

"Sorry, never mind. I'll tell you when you get out."

He heard the faint splash of water as she responded quickly. "No, wait. Just…come in."

What.

"What?"

"Come in, Castle."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I am desperately sorry this took so long and thank you all for your patience. I am unworthy and so very grateful. A special thanks to shuhNON who has waited almost a YEAR for it._

_One more to go._


	5. Chapter 5

**Dandelions**

A story by daphnebeauty

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Five: Emergence<span>

There was nothing she could do about the way her heart struggled against her chest, the way her mind blanked, and the way the water seemed to go cold all at once. Her tongue and her lips and her teeth, all of them had rebelled from the rest of her body and just invited him inside. Like it wasn't absolutely insane. Like it was something they did everyday.

It had been something in his voice, the beautiful childlike excitement completely quashed and sodden with disappointment. She'd spoken before she'd even known what she was doing, trying to heal his wounds and bring back that lilt without a thought to exactly what she had been proposing.

She was naked.

And he was _Castle_.

Through the icy wasteland of her mind, she managed to somehow wrap one of her arms around her chest and bring her knees up. Resting her hand on her shoulder, she covered the necessities. But really. Not nearly enough.

There were no bubbles in this bath, no mountainous suds to demurely hide behind. Just pure, clear, unforgiving water. She heard the twist of the knob on the door and sucked in a quick breath of the humid air. She should stop him. She should. Her mouth opened, empty of words, and then suddenly empty of air as the door was pushed forward and Castle stepped in.

He had a hand in front of his eyes.

The breath she hadn't known she'd harbored rushed out in a gust. Of course he'd cover his eyes. He was Castle.

"Uh…So…Kate. I was just saying that I found these…things," he shrugged, his arm loaded down with what looked like a pile of junk, "in your attic. Thought you might know more about them or something. But, you know? It can wait. It can totally wait. I'm just gonna go back out there. In the hall. Sorry."

She shifted in the water and his head twitched, honing in on the sound.

"Wait, Castle." There was nothing for it, now. Her mouth was bound and determined to do whatever it wanted without the valuable consult of her brain. She could not deny that no matter how naked and exposed she felt, she wanted him here. With her. In the bathroom. "I forgot to bring a book in here. Any chance something in that pile has a plot?"

"I grabbed a couple books from that room." He removed his hand from his eyes and her stomach dropped through her body, but his eyes were squeezed shut comically. He used his free hand to clutch at a few paperbacks and wiggle them around for her.

"What else did you grab? You said you were in my attic…?"

"Uh dresses, letters, and a journal. It all looks pretty interesting and I just—I guess I just wanted to show you. Share it with you."

"That's really sweet, Castle. It's been so long since I've gone up there; I forgot all about it."

"Want to look at it with me?" He shifted his weight between his feet, almost like a little boy.

"Totally. Yeah. I guess if you just sit with your back to the bath, then—"

"Oh. Um. Okay. 'Cause I was thinking, you know, after you get out."

"Right, of course—"

"No, but if you want to now, I can just—"

"No, no you're right. I was being—"

"Wait, Kate, no. Can I stay? I promise I won't peek."

She bit her lip through her smile. They were being ridiculous. "Yeah, Castle. You can stay."

He stood there for a second—stunned or waiting for her to take it back, she couldn't tell. Then all at once his body jolted forward towards her. She scooted back on instinct, his blind stumble to the bath a little questionable. Dropping his pile near the bath, he maneuvered himself in an exaggerated and amusing manner to avoid looking at her directly.

"Okay. Wow. That was quite an ordeal," he said as he leaned tentatively to rest his back on the hard lip of the tub.

"Well I deeply appreciate all your efforts to preserve my modesty."

"But of course."

There was a moment of silence between them, but it wasn't laced with the awkwardness Kate had been expecting. She let that feeling of ease paint over her mind, touching the hesitance that kept her arms banded to her chest and loosening it. Slowly, she unraveled her knotted body and lowered herself to rest against the back of the basin once more.

The hot water rocked at her body, cradling it in a weightless, circumambient hammock. It worked blessedly at the tender and aching tangles of her muscles. She sighed, content.

"Everything good?" he asked, his voice strangely tense.

"Yes. Perfect." She let one of her arms lie along the rim as she sank deeper into the bath. Water ran off her arm and trailed quickly to soak into the cotton of his shirt where it was pressed against the porcelain. His shoulders tensed at the heat.

"Sorry." She moved her arm back into the water, resisting the urge to wipe at the widening wet spot on his shirt.

"Don't worry about it," his voice was strained as he continued, "Would you rather read the letters, the journal, or one of the books?"

She didn't care. She just wanted his voice to fill the room and take her away from everything. "Let's read the journal, I guess."

He leaned forward and snagged the plain leather book, flicking to the first page with a thumb.

"Apparently it belonged to a Virginia Brant, age 12. Jeez, this kid's handwriting is better than mine."

"A time of penmanship, Castle."

"Penmanship and cannibalism."

"Every era has its downsides."

She wished he would turn around so she could see the wide and dazzling smile that she knew came along with his barking laugh.

She heard the swish of page against page as Castle moved forward. Reaching out, she grabbed her razor and the bar of plain, scentless, white soap the doctor had insisted on.

"Ready?" he asked, a finger tapping on the page.

"Mhmm." She brought her leg up into the air and rested her heel along the edge, slowly rubbing the soap onto her skin in a lather. She took her time, lightly massaging the sore muscles. When his voice failed to fill in the gaps between the splashes, she turned her head to look at him. His eyes were quite obviously aimed directly at her leg and not the pages of the journal.

"Castle. Eyes on the book."

"Right." He cleared his throat and somewhat slowly pulled his head away, eyes the last thing to leave.

Clearing his throat one last time, he scratched aimlessly at his hair and began to read. "_I've never been so entirely consumed by my emotions as I have since coming to this school. Joy, fear, hope, anger, and silliness: it seems whenever I am feeling one, I am feeling it in all of my soul. I feel it everywhere, even under my nails and in my hair and deep in my belly where my laughs like to start. Sister Mary Agatha is constantly telling me to contain myself, but I can't seem to begin to succeed…_"

She fell into the story, completely drawn into the complex and surprisingly political world of a girl's boarding school. Castle made it come to life, changing his reading pace to match, laughing aloud when he just couldn't contain himself, diving into the story with enthusiasm.

All of the day, all of the wonderful unforgettable moments of her day surrounded her and she felt herself full of them and lighter for it. The smell of the sun on his skin, the way the light filtered through swaying green leaves, the echoing floors of the chapel, the cotton of his shirt beneath her fingers, the deep and impervious love in his blue eyes. Nothing would ever be the same for her. Not with these memories. Not with the promise of _someday_ from Castle.

She'd forgotten her nakedness some time ago. She'd forgotten to be conscious of the way her breasts brushed against the water line and her sex was exposed when she shifted her legs. It was lovely to feel so free in front of him, to just exist in his presence as only herself with no armor.

To let them both feel the heavy trust in these moments.

"Hey, Kate? My voice is getting a little tired, do you mind if I stop for now?"

She could not control the way her heart sank a bit. She didn't want him to stop. She didn't want him to go. Everything had been so perfect.

"Yeah, of course. I should probably get out anyway, huh?"

"You don't have to. I was going to stay with you." He said it almost soothingly, like he knew she wanted him there with her.

"I'm out of things to do in here, though. Water's getting cold."

Before either of them really knew what he was doing, he twisted his body slightly and dipped a hand into the bath.

She sucked in a breath and he seemed to freeze, stunned at his own actions.

"Uh…seems fine to me. Maybe a little cool."

Not anymore.

"Wow. Really pushing your boundaries today, aren't ya." The rolling tease she'd tried to load her voice with was completely undone by the fact that every word had been embarrassingly breathy.

He looked half tempted to look at her, but instead he continued to stare at the wall as he spoke with a nervous smile, "You know me. Rebel. I see a _Do Not Enter _sign and I just have to…ignore it completely."

His fingers were now skimming the surface, nowhere near her body, but she imagined she could still feel the tiny waves ebb and flow against her. She shifted against the porcelain, erasing his waves and making her own, trying to regain the ability to speak without a tremor in her voice.

"Castle…" She could think of nothing else to say, nothing but his name, drawn from her like steam.

She watched the limited view of his face as he swallowed, his throat working and the muscles in his jaw clenching. Then he slowly turned his head and watched as his hand sank deeper into the water.

* * *

><p>His heart.<p>

He could feel it like a live, struggling, demanding creature inside his chest, trapped and wild. It clawed at his ribs and pounded against his throat, making his whole body seem to shake.

His hand.

He looked at it, floating like a piece of foreign, useless flotsam. Twitching a finger, he reminded himself to breathe. Wouldn't do to pass out and fall face first into her naked lap. Well, actually…

No. Twisting his hand slowly around in the water, he pulled it out, cupping a very small amount in the valleys between his fingers. Letting it fall back down in beaded drops, he listened to the purl and wondered why she had not spoken. He could not look at her to read her face, see her eyes.

He dipped his hand back into the warm water, watching the ever-dwindling ripples swirl away from his fingers. He heard a movement from her and there, just beneath the surface, the soft peach of her leg slid into view and called to him. The light traveled slower through the water, distorting her leg, making it seem further away from his grasp.

He wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel her skin under the pads of his fingers. He wanted to push his hand deeper, let the water swallow his arm, let it soak his shirt. He wanted to run his hand along her thigh until she arched her back and let the water spill off her chest. Until she gasped out his name into the humid air.

So close. His fingers were so close.

She shifted her leg at the exact moment he extended his hand out, ever so slightly. The very tip of his middle finger grazed the unbelievably smooth skin above her knee. It was the sexiest, scariest thing he'd ever felt in his entire life and he'd felt it with less than a square centimeter of his finger.

He drew his hand out of the water, burned by her.

"I'm going to go. Outside. This is a bad idea. I can't be in here with you."

"Yeah. Yes." She said the words on a quick inhale.

He stood quickly, pulling down on the legs of his jeans and drying his wet hand. "There's only so much I can take, Kate. You here, naked, under my fingers…I can't. Not if we can't. It's too much."

"I know. I know it is. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. You know how I feel, you know why I can't."

"Castle, please don't—"

"It's okay, Kate." Turning around mid sentence, he let her see his face and hoped it would help her understand. He kept his eyes pointedly directed at the ground. Giving what he hoped was a charmingly chagrined smile, he continued, "It's not your fault you're so goddamn beautiful and I've got the self-restraint of a two year-old."

"Your self-restraint is looking pretty good from here."

"Yeah. Well…" He didn't really have a reply for that one. He probably deserved a medal for the feats he'd performed in this bathroom today. Leaving his stuff on the ground, he gave her a shrug and a parting smile before bee lining for the door.

Oxygen. He needed air. There was nothing to breathe in that bathroom. The air was hot and muggy, full of the heavy weight of his uncontrollable desire. The wave of cool air from the hall lifted the tips of his hair and filled his lungs. Perfect.

From behind him, he heard the loud sounds of splashing. Kate was probably standing up, water sluicing down her body in torrents that followed every hard edge and soft curve. He flexed his hands. He'd been feet away from her wet, naked body for almost an hour. His finger had touched her slick thigh and somehow he'd thought it was all a grand idea? Knowing how close he'd come to her would make waiting even harder.

All he wanted to do was run his hands all over her body, let her drip dry in his arms, taste her lips again. And again. And again.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he walked as far away from the bathroom as he could, hearing her call of, "I'll be right down, Castle," as he was halfway down the stairs. He couldn't help but hope she took her time; his feelings were all over the place and he wasn't quite sure when he'd get a firm grasp on them again.

Settling down on the couch in the living room, he tried to think of absolutely anything but what exactly he was going to say to her. He found himself wishing that maybe, just this once, they could revert to how things had been in the past. Not talking about issues. Not bringing up the fact that he'd touched her in the bath, kissed her in the field, invaded her home.

He glanced down at his watch. It was fast approaching six already and as he looked out the windows to confirm the clock, he noted the change in lighting. The sun was on its descent and the world was warm with the glow.

It was enough to calm him from his frenzied state. Enough to anchor him to the world and the peace inherent in this place. He took deep breaths and rubbed his hands together, hearing doors closing upstairs. She'd be down in a minute and he needed to show her that he could handle this. Could handle them.

She'd need him to be stable and confident and patient.

Wiping the sweat from his palms on his jeans, he leaned back and crossed his legs, ankle on knee. The position felt stiff and forced, but hopefully time would ease the affected façade into something natural. Hopefully it would happen before Kate came downstairs.

The labored groan of the floorboards at the stairhead announced her imminent arrival. He stood up and made a move to go help her down the stairs. Only a day and it was already habit. An involuntary need to ease her way.

"Stay there, Castle. I'm good. The bath loosened me up."

He stopped his progression, but remained standing, waiting for her to reach him. She was carrying the bundle of things he'd found in the attic with her and when she came and stood in front of him, he took them off her hands.

"Ooh. Yes. I forgot these in there."

"Yeah, you were in a bit of a hurry." Was she smirking at him? She was. He narrowed his eyes at her, let the interaction wipe away any awkwardness, and turned to sit back on the couch with his things and his pride.

"Wanna pass me a book, Castle?"

"Which one?"

"Don't care."

He tossed her a worn copy of All Creatures Great and Small, the pages ochre and fuzzy from years of use. Her lips twisted in a small, knowing smile when she read the title.

"This is a good one."

He lifted Bare Trap into her vision. "What about this?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes, "Yeah…not so much."

"Wanna trade?"

"Nope."

She sat back into the plush cushions of her seat, twisting to bring her legs over the armrest. Cradled comfortably in the embrace of the chair, she flipped open the book and began to read without further ado.

He took a moment to just watch her, like he always did. He'd never seen her read before and if she took to the task like everything else in her life, he knew he'd shortly be in awe. He liked the way she rubbed the nail of her thumb over her lips, around and around, slowly, hypnotically. Occasionally she'd lift the hand up and brush a strand of dark, wet hair away from her face, but never behind her ear.

"Castle, read your book," she said without looking up.

"Right."

He opened the paperback to the beginning and tried to convince himself that it would be anywhere near as captivating as watching Kate's hair slowly drying. He had it bad, but what else was new. Flipping the page, he ignored the fact that none of the words had fully processed in his mind, no space left because Kate was taking everything.

Soon, though, he felt the unassailable draw of the book. Falling into the 1950s private-eye fiction, he read the simple lines with ease and reveled in the interesting case. He couldn't contain a laugh when a character was actually named Muggsy. This is where clichés were made, books like these.

"What's so funny?" Kate asked from her chair, looking up from her own book.

"Character named Muggsy."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. Just his name. Muggsy."

She smiled that adorable little girl smile, tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. Without commenting further, she tilted her head back down to continue with her own book. He couldn't move forward with such effortlessness. He thumbed the page of his book, taking in the crazy curls forming in her hair.

"Your hair is so curly. I had no idea."

She brought her head up, eyes the last thing to rise as if pulled forcefully from the pages of the book. When she finally seemed to process what he had said she brought a hand up to her hair and sifted her fingers through the damp curls. Instead of taming anything, it just made them stand out further.

"Yeah. I guess it's pretty wavy."

"I like it," he said. She brought the hand down that had self-consciously been twisting at the ends of a curl and smiled gently at him. "You should wear it like that more often."

"Not exactly work appropriate, but I guess I won't be going to work for a while, will I."

He weighed his answer in his mind, deciding to go with honesty. It wasn't like she didn't already know her situation and her short-term fate. "Probably not any time soon, Kate. But they haven't knocked you down for good. You'll get back there."

She closed her book, keeping a finger in to hold the place. "I know. It's just hard to think about sustaining this lifestyle here. I want to work. I want my team."

"They'll be there when you get back."

Her head fell back against the seat. "But in the meantime, am I supposed to just continue on here like this? Walking and gardening and reading all day every day? I can't live like this."

It wasn't an outburst full of dramatics, just a spill of unsuppressed honesty. He stood and took two steps to her chair, surprised at the confession. Kneeling down before her, he took her hand in his, making her lose her place in the book, but not apologizing.

"Kate. You aren't just walking and gardening and reading. You are healing. You are giving your body a chance to catch up to your brain."

Her thumb smoothed over his knuckle in a small swipe, her eyes ducking down behind long, makeup-free lashes.

She sighed. "I know."

"I know you do. And guess what? Now all that walking and gardening and reading stuff can be with me! Your trusty partner."

He got the smile he was aiming for and felt her fingers squeeze his hand. "Yeah, Castle. I guess that'll mix it up a bit."

He smiled at her and then let go of her hand, surprised when it took her a moment to let go too. Twisting around, he sat on the floor with his back to the chair and wiggled to get comfortable. He opened his book back up and stayed by her side, unsure if it breached protocol or if it would be what she needed.

He heard the shifting of her fingers against pages and then a few moments later, felt a small tickle at the back of his neck. Her fingers. He couldn't tell if she was mindlessly playing with the short hairs at his nape or if it was entirely intentional and just tentative. All he could feel was the gloriously light touch. He resisted the urge to lean into her hand, but nearly turned around in surprise when he felt the scrape of nails against his scalp.

Oh.

That was nice.

He closed his eyes and forgot his book in his lap, content to just soak up every single sensation of the moment.

* * *

><p>Kate looked up from her book when the shadows became too deep and too dark to make out the words at her regular pace. Her fingers were twined deeply somewhere in Castle's hair, no longer restrained to just the base of his neck. His head was resting on the cushion of her chair and when she withdrew her hand, he did not move.<p>

_Huh. Was he asleep? _

She pushed forward in the chair to lean over his head. His mouth was closed and the muscles in his face that were normally so busy expressing his every emotion were completely smooth. His eyes were gently shut and she could see the flutter of his lashes as he dreamed. He was beautiful.

She was afraid to move. She didn't want to wake him, didn't want to disturb this moment when she could finally look as closely as she wanted, didn't want him to wake up and force her to look away.

The sun had given him light freckles all across his nose and forehead. His silky hair was rumpled from where her fingers had run through it for over an hour. She could see the pores on his nose and the tiny spikes of stubble emerging from his jaw. The slight sheen of oil on his tan skin made him almost seem to glow.

Before she knew it, her finger was tracing the scar that ran above his eyebrow, an old dent in his skin, perhaps from an accident in his youth. Her stomach groaned loudly with huger and her eyes quickly flicked to his to see if he would awaken. Nope. Still dead to the world.

She leaned further forward to see the face of his watch, but the angle was all wrong and she pulled back. Her stomach growled again and made the decision for her. It didn't matter what time it was, it was time to eat. Threading her fingers back through Castle's hair, she tousled it a bit to wake him.

He hummed in pleasure.

She smiled and did it again. "Castle. Time to wake up."

He sighed and rolled his head back and to the side, looking up at her with sleepy blue eyes. They blinked slowly and a small smile lifted the corners of his clever mouth.

"Kate. Hi."

"Hey." She could not help the way her fingers continued to comb through his hair. "You hungry?"

"Mmm." His eyes had closed again, but the smile remained. "Feels good."

Drawing her fingers down to tug at his ear and get his attention she asked again, "Hey sleepy, are you hungry?"

He swallowed and she watched his Adam's apple work against his throat. "Yeah. Starving. Napping is hard."

"I'll bet."

He pulled his head away and stood up with a grunt of exertion. "Let's go see what we can make, shall we?" He held out a warm hand to help her up and she held it softly in her own. It took far too much effort on her part to let him go again. Everything seemed to be changing around her, and in the span of just one day, it was nigh impossible to stop touching him.

"I'm sure we'll find something," she spoke over the coursing burn of need in her veins. They walked into the kitchen together and he leaned against the counter as she began to sift through cabinets.

"Man, we could really use a movie night tonight. I'm so disappointed you don't have a TV."

"Really? Are we back to that again?"

"I'm just saying. Wouldn't mind closing out the night with some cinema."

She crouched tentatively to peer at the lower shelves, debating the wisdom of the words jumping on the tip of her tongue.

"Well…" she let her voice die out, taking the sentence with it.

"Well what, Beckett? You got a hidden TV here you're not telling me about?"

"Not exactly. I think there's an old projector in the attic. Absolutely ancient."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw that he was practically bouncing on his toes with the prospect. Whether the excitement was for the movie night, the old projector, or the thought of going into the attic again, she did not know. Probably all three.

"I can get it down. I can set it up."

"I don't know where the movies are, though. They might be by the projector? And I'm certain we don't have the screen anymore. You'll have to find a sheet in the linen closet and hang it up in the living room somehow."

"Totally. I can do that. This is going to be so much fun."

"Well, go on, then. I'll figure out dinner." He was out of the room and bounding up the stairs before her sentence was even finished. She laughed loud and clear, almost startling herself with the noise. No matter how she tried to suppress the smile pulling at her cheeks, it had decidedly settled in.

Pulling penne pasta from the cabinet, she settled on making some sort of macaroni and cheese dish. It seemed like something Castle would be okay with. She shuffled around in the freezer, looking for anything that she could serve as an appropriate side. Really, she needed more food here. Castle was right. There was no meat in sight.

As often happened when she cooked, time passed quickly and before she knew it dinner was ready and she was spooning it out onto plates and into bowls. Carrying it all out into the living room, she stopped in confusion when Castle was not there.

"Castle?" she called out. There was no projector or sheet set up here. He'd probably gotten distracted in the attic and forgotten to get things going. Damn that imagination of his.

There was no answer to her call and she furrowed her brow in consternation. Moving forward to set the plates down on the coffee table and go search for him, she was halted by the sound of the front door opening. Castle walked through, his hair still mussed from his nap and his face alight with unsuppressed happiness.

She would never grow tired of that smile and the way his whole body seemed to contribute.

"Kate. Hey. I've got a surprise. Come look."

She left the food on the table and cautiously followed him back outside. His surprises had a tendency to be overwhelming to say the least.

They rounded the side of the house and her jaw dropped at what was before her. Castle had hung a sheet from one of the branches of a crab apple tree and the side of the house. It bulged a bit when the breeze blew, but stayed firmly rooted to the ground with two stakes.

Under the tree, he'd created a sort of nest. Blankets were layered on top of blankets. Piles of throw pillows and cushions were arranged against the trunk of the tree and on the edges of the blankets.

"I hope you don't mind. I sort of raided the linen closet."

She huffed out a disbelieving laugh, her heart beating out of control in her chest. This was just how he was, wasn't it. He could take the simplest of tasks and turn it into the most wonderful gesture. Take a simple movie night and make it so much more by pouring his heart and his imagination into it.

"Castle…what…" She turned her unblinking eyes to him and saw the apprehension on his face.

"I thought it would be nice. The weather is…gorgeous."

She gasped out another incredulous laugh, not quite able to find the words to give him. Walking up closer to him until she could rest the very tips of her fingers on his forearm, she was suddenly unable to look into his hopeful eyes.

"Castle, it's perfect."

He smiled widely, proud and pleased. "It took forever to get the projector the right distance. I thought for sure you'd finish dinner first."

She resisted the powerful and now common urge to kiss his cheek and let that delicious stubble scratch at her lips.

"I'll go grab dinner before it gets cold. We can eat it out here."

He followed her inside and offered to grab the glasses of water she'd forgotten in the kitchen. She waited for him to come back before they both headed out together. Kneeling down on the pad of blankets, she set their food out in front of them while he went to mess around with the projector.

"What film did you find?"

"Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb."

She clasped her hands together and twisted to look at him as he made some adjustments.

"Oh, I love that movie!"

"Me too." He shot her a distracted smile.

"I haven't seen it in forever."

"Me neither." He looked back up at her finally and twirled a finger at the sky. "It's not dark yet; I'd say we've got another half an hour or so. Did you want to start it now anyway?"

She looked out from underneath the blossoming branches of the apple tree and took in the fiery empyrean above them. Pinks and oranges and an electric white billowed and swirled around each other in the clouds as a deep purple chased them to the horizon. Darkness would come soon enough and the sun was on the other side of the house.

"Let's start it now, I think. It might be a bit faded, but I don't want to wait."

He gave her a wink and then fiddled with the last few knobs on the projector before the movie started. The clicking whir of the film as it was spun and processed sent a surprising jolt of anticipation through her. She really did love this movie and Castle was the perfect person to share it with.

He settled in beside her, lying on his side but propped by his elbow. Looking over the length of his body, she bit her lip. He'd looked exactly the same in that field of dandelions before he'd spun her world around. She wanted to lean over and try again.

He pulled his plate towards himself, oblivious to her gnawing desire.

"So what are we having?"

"Macaroni and cheese with diced tomatoes. Broccoli on the side. Just steamed in the microwave in a bag. Nothing special."

"Well it smells delicious. I'm starving." He grabbed his fork and gestured for her to do the same. Smiling, he dug in.

She picked at the pasta already swept up as the narrator began the introduction to the movie. Her attention was pulled back to Castle when he moaned exaggeratedly.

"Kate. Kate this is fantastic. I'd have never thought to put tomatoes in it, but wow. Just mmm." He shoveled another huge bite into his mouth.

"Alright, alright. Don't oversell it, Castle."

He smiled with closed lips through his food, eyes crinkling adorably and she turned back to the screen and her own food. The sound was muted in the presence of the breeze and creaking trees and open space, but she could still hear the dialogue clearly. After she finished her dinner, she pulled one of the many throw pillows under her head and leaned back, relaxing.

* * *

><p>The night floated in around them like chiffon scarves. The darkness masking them before he'd even really noticed everything was changing. He pushed back further into a huge collection of pillows and threw his hands behind his head, enjoying the summer night.<p>

Kate's eyes were still riveted to the screen, undeterred by the undulations of the sheet that threw the characters faces into almost disturbing contortions. He watched her as she watched the film. He'd seen it enough times that watching her was infinitely more fascinating. That seemed to be a pattern today. And every day.

He wished she'd scoot over and lie on his chest. He'd already tried inching closer to her over the course of the movie thus far, but it had seemed too obvious and he'd stopped. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes. He wondered what it was about, but before he could ask she turned her head and looked directly at him, pupils dilated in the dark.

"This was a perfect idea."

He tries to breathe through that look in her eyes, but he can't, he can't. She looks like she wants to kiss him again, her eyes darting to his lips and lingering, soft and pensive. Oh but they are supposed to wait. He is supposed to wait for her. He has to let her heal and let her be sure and ready and strong.

But then the wind picked up and a light shower of blossoms fell down onto the blanket like fragrant snow. She smiled at him through the falling flowers and his heart squeezed, forcing the words out of him.

"I love you so much."

Even her shock was as graceful as the floating petals. Her lips parted and her eyes widened and other than the small bob of her throat in a swallow, he would have never known his words had reached her ears.

"I know I'm supposed to be waiting. I know that this is the opposite of that. But I just can't look at you and not say it. I can't spend the day next to you, holding your hand, reading to you, falling asleep with your fingers in my hair and not tell you how I feel. It's all I can think about. You. How I love you."

He could see the wildly beating pulse between her clavicles and he reached out a finger to touch the spot.

"And everything we said before still stands. I'll wait, I promise. With no slips other than this one. I just needed to tell you one more time how perfect you are to me and how much I am yours for as long as you want me."

And then her mouth was on his and there was none of the delicate grace from before, none of that blissful barely there touch. He could finally breathe, but all he breathed was her. Kate. He filled his hungry lungs with the air she gave him, so full of power and light. She rolled into him, her body half covering his own, taking every inch of his space and eliminating it. All he could think was that she was welcome to have it. All of him.

His heart beat with bursting blazes of passion, the fire growing and burning in his soul. More. He needed more of her. Her tongue dove into his mouth and he groaned, his hand clenching at her neck and then sliding to her shoulder.

Her kiss was blind and fierce, uncertainty and determination steaming from her mouth and into his. It consumed him and he submitted to it. Let her have what she wanted from him.

Entirely too soon, the madness slowed and her lips merely hovered against his own, panting heavily. The humidity of her breath on his lips made the blood in his veins scream for more. She spoke quietly against him, her eyes still closed although his watched her intently.

"Everything we said before still stands. With no slips other than this one. I just needed to kiss you one more time."

He had nothing to say to that. His words were gone and in their place was the aching need to kiss her again and again. Instead he rolled back against the pillows and sighed dramatically, sure to leave the smile on his face for her.

"If I do this right, Castle, if I put the work in…I think it will be worth it. I have to believe it will be worth it."

"It will." He looked at the tiny stars he could see through the thickly flowering branches.

"Yeah? You sound certain."

"Kate. You're already worth it."

She hummed and then he felt the heavy weight of her head on his chest. He breathed in the scent of her clean hair, his nose twitching as the tiny strands tickled it relentlessly. Smoothing it down with a hand, he had the fleeting thought that this night would eventually end.

His heart sank a bit at the thought. Such a perfect day shouldn't have to end. He closed his eyes and listened to the demanding chirps of a choir of crickets, felt the smooth thick waves of Kate's hair, delighting in the intoxicating scent of the night mixing with Kate's skin.

The movie ended rather more anticlimactically than usual. The apocalyptic destruction of earth not nearly as heart stopping as the few moments that had preceded it when Kate Beckett's mouth had sucked hard at his own and her tongue had dived against his.

The tape ran out and the empty clack of the film as it spun against nothing was enough to motivate him to leave the haven of their little nest.

"Want to call it an early night? We had a busy day."

She tilted her head on his chest, looking up at him with impossibly big, dark eyes. Blinking hard, he bit the inside of his lip to keep from leaning in and kissing hers.

"Sure. I guess I am pretty wiped." She pushed herself off him and he immediately regretted asking. He could have just fallen asleep with her out here, under the stars with flower petals as their blanket.

She licked her lips and looked shyly over at him, probably attempting to gauge just how far she'd ruined him with that destructive mouth of hers. He tried to smile comfortingly and it seemed to work because she smiled back.

He wondered what tomorrow would be like. Would he always be able to touch her like this or was it a one-day thing? Didn't seem like there was much to waiting if he was allowed to hold her in his arms and smell her hair at night.

He stood along side her and together they carried as much as they could inside. It took three trips to get it all inside and put away. There was an odd silence between the two when all the clean up work was done, and then Kate jerked her head to the stairs.

"Come on, Castle. I'll show you your room."

They took the stairs together, he a few steps behind. She stopped at a door halfway down the hall and twisted the brass knob to open it.

"It's nothing special, but hopefully it'll do. I know a twin bed might be a tight fit."

"I'll be fine Kate, thanks."

He walked a bit further into the room and then turned around to face her. She stuttered out a laugh at the unnaturally long pause between them.

"So, I guess this is goodnight, then?"

He smiled, scratching at the back of his head, wishing he could ask her to stay but knowing that he couldn't.

"Yeah. Sleep well, Kate."

Her hand twisted on the doorknob as she looked up at him from under her lashes, a smile tweaking her lips.

"You too, Castle. Sweet dreams."

And then she was gone, shutting his door behind her and leaving him standing alone in the foreign bedroom. He looked down at his jeans, the leg still crunchy and a bit muddy from his slip in the river earlier. Unzipping them, he shucked them to the floor, now standing in just boxers, socks, and his shirt.

He'd brought nothing else with him so he pulled the shirt over his head next, gathering the pile of discarded clothes and placing them tidily on the arm of the bench under the window. Lifting his hands into the air, he pushed his chest forward and popped his back, releasing a stream of tension and sighing in relief.

Turning to the tiny bed, he tried not to think about the potentially cannibalistic little girl who'd slept here decades before. He exhaled and scrubbed his hands over his face, accepting the pull of the bed on his sleepy psyche. Maybe it had been one of the nuns' rooms. Maybe it wasn't half as creepy as it seemed.

He heard footsteps outside the door and nearly jumped out of his skin. There was a brief knock on the door before it swung open and Kate stepped in.

* * *

><p>Oh.<p>

He did not have clothes on. Not really. Not nearly enough.

She struggled to draw her eyes from his broad and muscled chest, back up to his eyes. Her mouth worked silently, trying to remember what it was she'd come here for. His chest, though, was thoroughly distracting.

He doesn't have a six-pack, but his body is thick and solid and she wants to run her hands and her tongue and her teeth all over. Everywhere. That kiss outside had been a terrible idea. Now all she could think about was how his mouth had tasted under hers and how she'd love to taste the rest of him.

Her eyes traveled the path of that line that ran over his hip, oblique and deep and down, down, down. Her hands flexed in the clothes she held. Oh, the clothes. That's why she'd come in here. She yanked her eyes away from the smooth, tan stretch of his torso and stared at the ceiling.

"I, uh…I brought these for you. Clearly you need them."

She shoved her hand out to him and he took the clothes from her. Glancing at his face to gauge the level of crap she'd have to take for this later, she saw his too pleased smile and elevated eyebrow.

"How thoughtful of you, Beckett."

"I knocked first."

"Barely."

"I didn't think you'd have gotten naked so fast."

"The speed with which I can undress is legendary."

She rolled her eyes and turned more fully towards him, the banter wrapping her up in a familiar comfort zone.

"Yeah, well. In case you wanted them, those are my dad's. They should fit okay."

He lifted them up with a nod of thanks and then unfurled the sweat pants. Before she had a chance to leave the room and let him change in peace, he bent over and stuck his legs in, tugging the pants up to hang low at his waist.

"A little short, but totally comfy. Thanks, Kate."

Pulling the shirt over his head next, he gave her a dopey smile eyes twinkling from under the curtain of messy bangs. She stepped forward unconsciously, tempted to brush them to the side. He cleared his throat and she detoured to the side, coming to rest at the bench his old clothes had been thrown over.

"So what's your plan for tomorrow, Castle?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees and blue eyes fixed on her. "Well, I've actually got some meetings downtown in the early afternoon. They're setting me up with a signing tour for Heat Rises, trying to confirm a schedule with me and talk stuff over. Lot's of people are probably going to be asking about the shooting and we need a game plan. I didn't want to do it through email."

A rush of cold flooded her stomach. "What exactly is your plan?" It would probably be good publicity for his books if he talked about it, told the tragic tale of his muse being shot before his very eyes, how he'd tried to save her, how he felt her blood beneath his hands.

"I'm hoping we can just keep it simple, you know? I don't really want to talk about it any more than I have to. Maybe some line I'll repeat if asked to address the shooting and that you're recovering just fine. That's enough, right?"

She nodded in relief, glad that no more attention would be drawn to it than necessary if Castle had his way. "Yeah, I think that's good. It'll be nice for the fans that really care, but hopefully quash the zoo of gossip columnists before they start."

He smiled. "Good." He readjusted his position on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. She mimicked his more relaxed position by bringing her feet up to stretch along the bench. "So I guess it means I'll be leaving really early tomorrow. Probably before you're even awake."

She nodded, struck by the odd feeling of impending loneliness.

"I guess this is goodnight and goodbye, then."

"But not for long. I'll be back on the weekend. I like it here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Beckett. It's really beautiful. And the company's not bad either."

She smiled and then turned her head to look out at the blackness, the glass cool against her forehead. She could see the shadowy shifting of the trees far in the distance, lit lightly by the moon. She loved this place too. It was a sort of haven, a place of safety and tranquility.

Speaking softly, she tried to explain it to Castle, to share. "This is the place where time stands still for me. Things don't rush. Things…"

"Settle."

"Yes." She met his understanding eyes and felt a little bit of that loneliness melt away. He'd be coming back. She unlatched the window and let the cooling night air flow in. "It can get warm at night. There's no AC in this room," she said as an explanation.

She stood, ready to go to bed, confident in the knowledge that Castle would return. He followed her to the door and they paused on the threshold, she on one side, and he on the other. Leaning in hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. She exhaled and drew her arms up and around his waist.

Secured in his embrace, she felt unburdened. Lightened by the heavy weight of his arms, all the turgor of a month of stress evaporated, his hug the final ingredient of her day of healing. There in that cove of strong chest, warm neck, and banded arms-there, she could not be touched.

"Goodnight, Kate." His _I love you_ went unspoken, but heard.

"Goodnight, Castle."

She filled herself with him to keep for later. The smell of sun on his skin, the slide of his hands up her back, the constant beautiful thrum of his pulse. She listened and waited at ease for that single, exquisite tandem beat of their hearts as they pressed into each other. In that ephemeral moment, she could not separate the two of them. Perhaps, it was only one heart all along.

* * *

><p>He awoke early in the morning, before even Kate would rise. It was still dark outside, but not the inky blanket of night. There was a weak, but persistent tint of grayish yellow dawn creeping along the surfaces and edges of everything he could see. It was enough light for him. He dressed slowly in the clothes so neatly draped over the bench by the window where Kate had sat last night.<p>

The rustle of fabric and slide of a zipper were the only noises that pervaded the thick and calming quiet. As he made his way out of the room and down the hall, he wished the floorboards would stop greeting each step of his feet with such enthusiasm. He'd always imagined Kate as a light sleeper, and he flinched at every single roar of the old wood beneath him.

Without flipping on a single light, he found his way out the front door and let it snick shut behind him. Despite the numerous windows in the house, once outside, the world lightened immensely. Sounds were clearer, infused with crystalline simplicity.

There was an unexpected chill on the morning breeze, but he let it fall on his face, enjoying the invigorating spill and prick of the cold. Looking out over the morning fields still half doused in darkness, he found his feet deviating from the path to his car and out into the open draw of her property.

He wanted to leave her with something that would show her how much yesterday had meant to him. For them.

* * *

><p>Kate woke early.<p>

She snuck out of her room in the long, soft T-shirt and little waffle shorts she'd word last night. Quietly, she approached Castle's door and pushed it slowly open, hoping to see him still warm in bed.

The bed was made and the room was empty of him. He really had left early. She shrugged off her disappointment and ran a hand through her wild hair, snagging in a tangle. The scar on her side was incredibly tender from yesterday, but she climbed down the stairs feeling better than she had any other morning since she'd been shot. When she reaches the kitchen she stops in her tracks, a gasp of happy surprise fleeing from her lungs.

It's not her heart that stutters in her chest. No. Her heart is strong and beats with a forceful, unerring purpose. Something else has risen inside her and fluttered about. Her soul, maybe? Lifting and lightening and stretching like the rays of dawn after a too dark night. It's liberating and it fills her.

She steps forward and fingers one of the dandelions in the massive bouquet on her table. There are maybe fifty of them, tied together with a ribbon and a few scattered around on the surface. She cannot contain her smile. Reaching out, she snags the small piece of paper with his handwriting lying at the foot of the vase of dandelions.

_Put your heart and dreams in these until I come back to you._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

><p><em>AN: For Shannon, You mean so much to me and FUCK IT I can't put it into fucking words that sound pretty. But I hope you enjoyed it and I'll see you on gChat._

_Everyone else: Thank you for your support and enthusiasm. You kept this going when it very easily could have died. I hope you can see what I see in this story._

_COVER ART BY MJSOFTER!_


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